


Quarantined to Blow Your Mind

by quirkysubject



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: (not terribly disciplined though), (very tame), Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Banter, Bondage and Discipline, Boys In Love, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Consensual Kink, Creative Use of Nipple Clamps, Dirty Talk, Dom Roger Taylor (Queen), Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Flogging, Gratuitous Smut, Humor, Lingerie, M/M, Metaphors, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Safewords, Sex Toys, Sex-A-Thon, Sexual Experimentation, Spanking, Sub Freddie Mercury, Subdrop, Too Much Time and Money on Their Hands, gratuitous cat references, mostly but there is some switching, quarantined
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27761446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkysubject/pseuds/quirkysubject
Summary: Freddie and Roger have to go into quarantine. Freddie decides it's time for a bit of shopping.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 87
Kudos: 73
Collections: The Froger Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Froger Week 2020 Day 3 - Prompt: Quarantine**
> 
> Welcome to my gratuitous porn romp! The five chapters are those that I have planned in detail, but I might add more as the mood hits me. Tags will be updated with each chapter, so make sure to have a look at those and make sure there's nothing in there that might squick you. 
> 
> Sometimes I mention specific toys and brands - that's not meant as an endorsement, and I'm not getting paid for any of it xD Though you can message me on tumblr if you want recs :D
> 
> There's a mention of the Covid-19 pandemic, but it's really just a pretext and won't play much of a role in the story.

“Jesus Christ on a bike, Freddie.” 

Roger blinks down at the string of anal beads in his hands. It’s roughly the length of his forearm and promises to “Satisfy all your backdoor needs!” How reassuring. 

At least there’s no question about where it’s supposed to go. Which he can’t say for the next item he takes out of the box, which is transparent and vaguely cock shaped, but also hollow inside and has a very un-dildo-like downright curve to it… "You, er, went on a bit of a spree, didn't you?"

Freddie looks both delighted and a bit sheepish as he surveys the mess of cardboard packaging, wrapping paper, and glossy boxes with lewdly posing models on them that has filled up the living room. "I… No, Lily, get out of there! Bad girl!” Freddie picks up the cat that has sneaked into a box of various uncomfortable looking leather things and sets her down on the sofa with a stern look. Lily doesn’t seem particularly impressed with it, but then, she never is. “I, er, panicked,” he finishes finally. 

"You don't say." Roger holds up the six-pack of industrial-sized lube bottles. Canisters. Whatever. "Did a porn studio open in our basement that I haven't found out about yet?"

"We've got to pass the time somehow," Freddie sniffs, waving a silky blindfold at Roger with a saucy grin. 

Roger is still trying to find out whether he missed some vital piece of information. Like aliens having landed in Kensington and chosen them for their gruesome experiments on human sexuality. "You realise it's only two weeks."

"Only!" 

“And that one or both of us might fall ill?”

“Very unlikely, as you keep reminding me. But all the more reason to make sure the other can fend on his own.”

"And that we have a super-fast internet connection, and a giant telly, and books, whole shelves of them, and that we are still allowed to go out into the garden and everything?"

"Fine." Freddie throws the neon-yellow vibrating cock ring he'd been testing on his fingers back into the box. " _Fine._ I'm not going to _force_ myself on you. I'll just have it all cleared to a guest bedroom and spend my quarantine _there_ , if you don’t-"

"Shush, hey." Roger picks his way through the clutter of Freddie’s shopping spree, swerving around Romeo who is attempting to disembowel a piece of styrofoam, and kneels down next to his partner. “Sorry, love, I didn’t it mean it like that,” he mumbles, brushing a couple of kisses against the corner of Freddie’s mouth until his features soften and the impeding sulk gentles into a slight mope. 

Freddie picks up a pair of fluffy handcuffs, twirling them around his finger. It’s the kind they already have and decided were useless, only this one has got a tiger print fur. Roger doubts it’s going to make much of a difference. “I just thought we could use the time to… have some fun,” Freddie mutters. 

“And it’s an excellent idea!” Roger enthuses. “Er, thank you for providing for us in our time of need,” he says formally.

“Oh, don’t mock me.” 

“I’m not!” Alright perhaps he is, just a little. It’s just so very _Freddie_ that when they’re told they have to go into Covid-quarantine for two weeks (just as a precaution!), Freddie’s first action is to place a gargantuan order with that hip neighbourhood sex-boutique. “And I couldn’t be happier with your plans.” Roger nuzzles his nose against Freddie’s neck. 

“I thought you’d be excited,” Freddie mutters. 

“I am!”

“Why do you look like I signed you up for a ballroom dance class then?”

Roger is about to deny it and respond with something snarky, but then stops himself. Because he is, isn’t he? Sure, some of it is just surprise at the sheer amount of stuff Freddie ordered. It also would have been nice if Freddie had asked him for his input, so they could have planned it all together. But given that Freddie bought pretty much every toy (and costume) under the sun, anything Roger would have picked is likely to be in one of these boxes anyway. 

No, the real reason is a lot less rational than he cares to admit. 

“It’s just that I thought…” It’s a bit embarrassing to say to it out loud, but then he’s sitting here between a pair of edible briefs and something called the 'Hunkyjunk RIPPLE asslock', so what does it even matter. “I just kinda thought… I thought _I_ satisfied all your ‘backdoor needs.’” 

Freddie’s face goes through a complex series of movements very quickly, but before Roger can properly decode it, his partner has flung his arms around him and is pressing his face into his shoulder, shaking with… with...

“Oi, are you laughing at me?” 

All he gets in response is a manic cackle that shakes Freddie’s entire body. 

Oh, isn’t that fantastic? Roger opens up and bares his insecurities to Freddie, and this is what he gets in return. Brilliant, really, just what he needs. He tries to disentangle himself, perhaps stomp off to the kitchen to fix himself a cuppa or something stronger, but Freddie is not letting him go. 

“S-sorry,” Freddie hiccups and shakes his head against Roger’s shoulder. 

“You absolute _tosser_ ,” Roger hisses, channelling his wounded pride into anger, “I can’t believe you would-” 

“Oh, darling,” Freddie sighs. He pulls back a little, so he can look at Roger. His expression is so fond yet apologetic at the same time that Roger has already half-forgotten what he’s being angry about. “You take excellent care of my needs.” He purses his lips and a devilish glint appears in his eyes. “The backdoor and… the front garden, too,” he whispers. 

And although he really doesn’t mean to, Roger can’t help but giggle at that. Perhaps house-related metaphors aren’t the best way to discuss their sex lives. “Well, I’m happy to hear.” He gestures at the boxes. “But why all this, then?” It’s not like they don’t already have toys. A couple of butt-plugs, a vibrator, some nipple-clamps, even a pair of sturdy leather cuffs. 

“I thought we could just try some things,” Freddie shrugs. “You like trying new things.” 

Roger nods. Of course he does. 

“We did a lot of that at the beginning. And now…” Freddie looks down at the length of silky rope he has wound tightly around his fingers. “I’m not saying we’re stale, but we do tend to fall back on the same old things, don’t you think?”

Roger has to admit there’s some truth in that, and it stings. He prides himself on being a good lover, an adventurous one too. And to hear that Freddie is growing bored with their sex life, while he had no idea… “They work well for us,” he says, a tad defensively.. “Those same old things.” 

“Yes, of course they do, darling! They’re wonderful.” Freddie puts a hand on his arm and leans forward, looking deep into his eyes to make sure Roger knows he means it. “I’m not suggesting we stop doing any of that.”

“Just to add a bit of an experimental twist?” It’s odd, now that he thinks about it, that Freddie should have to talk him into it. Usually, he’s the one getting bored and restless first, eager to throw himself head first into any ill-advised adventure - with Freddie never following far behind. And sometimes rushing ahead. 

“Exactly, my dear. And it's not like we have much else to do. So if something doesn’t work, we’ll still have all the time in the world to fall back on something we know we both like.”

“Hmm.” It’s not a bad idea, Roger has to admit. Turning their confinement into a sex-holiday... And some of those things Freddie bought do look like they have potential. “Alright then. Did you have anything particular in mind yet?” His eyes are involuntarily drawn back to the collection anal beads, the familiar first stirrings of arousal chasing away any lingering apprehension. 

“What, right now?”

Roger puts his fingers under Freddie’s chin, tilting it his way. “Why not?” God, he’ll never get over how gorgeous Freddie’s luminous brown eyes are. 

Freddie turns away from the kiss at the last second. “Ohh, I should have known," he grins, a little coquettishly. 

"What, that I'm a horny bastard?" He lets his fingers trail into the collar of Freddie's shirt. "Yes, you should have." Roger's also not sure that the man who ordered 500 viewing hours of hardcore porn is in a position to get all high and mighty about that, but that’s neither here nor there.

Freddie catches his hand and pushes it away. "You're distracting me."

"From what?"

"Perusing," Freddie enunciates carefully, popping his ‘p’s. "Planning."

Roger sits back on his heels, scowling at him. That's the problem with experimentation. All that build-up. If he'd had his way, he’d be holding Freddie's dick half-hard and eager in his hand already. "Are you going to tell me about your plans at least?"

Freddie looks very pleased. “Of course, darling. I thought that we could each select a couple of things we find interesting, and then plan something around that.”

“Like alternating days?”

“Ambitious, I like that,” Freddie purrs. He picks up something that looks like a cane, but a frighteningly solid and massive one, inspecting it with a curious expression. 

Which brings Roger to another point. "The other person can veto ideas though. Because I'm not hitting you with that thing." It looks heavy enough to break someone's arm with it.

"Oh, that's not what it's for," Freddie says, putting it aside and picking up some sheer underwear instead. "But here, look-"

Something about his quick dismissal piques Roger’s interest. "What's it for then?"

"Hmm?" Freddie tries very hard to look as if he had already all forgotten about it.

"The cane thing."

"Oh that." Freddie looks down at it as if he was seeing it for the first time. 

“Yes, that.” When Freddie doesn’t answer, Roger prompts him again, letting just the hint of an edge creep into his voice. “What _is_ that, love?”

"It's a…" Freddie clears his throat. "A spreader bar," he mumbles, a flush reddening his cheeks. 

Which is interesting, because of all the bizarre merchandise littering their living room, this is the first item that causes a crack in Freddie’s nonchalant attitude. “A spreader bar," Roger repeats slowly, savouring the words. “What’s it for?” He’s got an idea, but he wants to hear Freddie say it.

"It… it keeps the legs spread," Freddie explains, sending an almost coy glance in Roger's direction from under his long lashes. 

Now the loops at the ends of the bar make sense. Freddie would be completely exposed, not to mention: barely able to move… Roger feels the heat rise in him again. "Interesting," he muses. “Put it on my pile.” 

Freddie tilts his head. “I didn’t realise you had a pile already.”

Roger gets up and walks over to the first box he’s been unpacking. “Never too late to start one, isn’t it,” he says, picks up the anal beads and puts them on a free spot next to the sofa. 

Freddie doesn’t reply, but he’s observing him closely. Roger meets his gaze, weighs the bar in his hand for a moment, pleased to see Freddie’s throat moving as he swallows, then puts down next to the beads. Oh yes, they’re going to have fun with that. In fact, Freddie looks so worked up that Roger is about to suggest they start the first experiment right away. 

But then Freddie looks away and claps his hands, giddy and excited as if Christmas had come early. “Excellent! Now how about you fix us some drinks, while I get started on my own pile?”

~~~

“I wanna see you in every single one of these knickers,” Roger pants into Freddie’s ear. “Wanna… hngh… wanna see you _ruin_ every single one of them too.” He drags a particularly racy, crimson one over Freddie’s cheek before tossing it aside to land on a pile with the others. 

“Except the ones I reserved for you of course.” Freddie raises a challenging eyebrow at him, but the effect is spoiled when his mouth falls open in a gasp. 

Roger keeps the nipple pinched tightly between his fingers for another second, just to make his point, then let’s go and rubs his thumb over it, enjoying the way Freddie’s mouth goes slack with pleasure. 

However, something else is going slack too. “Keep it tight,” Roger demands with a flick of his finger, and immediately the ring that Freddie has formed around their cocks with both his hands tenses again. “Very good,” Roger breathes as he thrusts against Freddie’s cock, made slippery by the contents of about half a bottle of lube. It’s not like they have to save up on it. 

He runs his fingers over Freddie’s chest, hair catching slightly on the fabric of his fishnet gloves, until he reaches one of the loops of red bondage rope that loosely criss-cross his upper body. He tugs on it, just lightly, just to see how it moves against Freddie’s skin. Intriguing, is his conclusion. Sinuous. 

Objectively speaking, they must look completely ridiculous. Freddie sitting on the sofa and Roger kneeling over him, both of them half-undressed and more than a little tipsy from Roger’s favourite scotch. How they ended up there is not that important. Let’s just say they got a bit distracted during their Planning and Perusing Session. At some point, Freddie put on a sort Alice band with kitten ears and absolutely refused to take it off again. The bejewelled clamps that were supposed to go on his nipples (something that proved to be way too fiddly for their current state) are now dangling from Roger’s ears instead. An assortment of paddles, floggers and restraints is strewn all around them, discarded for now in favour of more immediate and familiar pleasures. 

Freddie drags the tight ring of his hands over their cocks, and Roger bites back a moan. God, he loves Freddie’s capable, long-fingered hands, and the just-the-right-kind-of-too-much pressure they can exert. He pulls back and thrust in again, enjoying the slide and the slight hitch in Freddie’s breath as they move against each other. Roger weaves one hand into Freddie’s hair, tugs his head back until his throat is exposed and sucks a bruising bite into Freddie’s sweat-soaked neck. The taste of his skin blends with the trace of Whiskey still lingering in his mouth, a heady cocktail that makes him eager for his release. “Are you close,” he whispers, as if he couldn’t tell by the low, choppy groans escaping Freddie’s throat. 

“Fuck, yes.” Freddie swipes one palm over the heads of their cocks, sending a jolt of pleasure through both of them, before interlacing his hands again. 

“Wanna feel you come against me.” Roger tightens the hand in Freddie’s hair and pulls on the rope until it’s stretched tautly over his chest. “You know how much I love that.”

Freddie bucks his hips in search of friction, and the added intensity makes Roger dig his teeth into the taut muscle of Freddie’s shoulder. It’s all that is needed to set off a chain reaction - Freddie shudders and cries out, and then there’s a pulsing wetness against Roger’s cock, hot and slick, and it only takes Roger two or three more thrusts to follow him over the edge. 

They kiss sloppily afterwards, a lazy slide of their lips, broken by loopy grins and panting breaths. 

Once the high has worn off a bit, Roger lets himself roll over sideways onto the sofa. He grimaces as something spiky and rubbery digs into his back, then laughs at the purple thing once he’s caught a hold of it. What on earth do they need a rabbit vibrator for? 

Freddie really must have just called up the shop and said, “Send me everything, dear. Yes, _everything_.” Roger certainly wouldn’t put it past him. It would explain the Womanizer X as well. And the slew of latex face masks that Freddie had summarily put on the “no”-pile with nary a glance. 

“Are you claiming that one,” Freddie asks. He looks very smug as he wipes himself off with Roger’s shirt, covered in love bites and with his half-hard cock hanging out of his trousers. He’s also nicked the last of Roger’s whiskey, it looks like, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass like he’s a patron at a fancy bar instead of a lazy, shagged-out booze-thief.

“Yeah, why not,” Roger says and tosses it in the general direction of his pile. Which has grown so much over the last hour, before they got distracted, that they’d need a month of quarantine to get through it all. Some things he’s still not quite sure what to do with - hopefully they come with a manual. Or he’ll just have to get creative. He’s good at that.

He looks up to find Freddie peering at him thoughtfully, the glass resting against his lips. “What,” Roger asks distractedly while peeling the gloves off his hands. There’s something subtly erotic to the barely-there quality of the material, that mix of stark black and bare skin. Wasn’t there a pair of fishnet stockings in that box of lingerie, too? He might find a use for them after all...

A sultry grin spreads over Freddie’s face. “Just thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you tomorrow.”

Roger raises one eyebrow and tosses the gloves over the back of the sofa. “You think you’re going first?” 

“No, I go second. You already went first.” Freddie looks exceedingly smug. 

“That wasn’t my go!” Roger takes the nipple clamps off his ears, grimacing a little at the pull, and holds them up like a piece of prime evidence. “Those weren’t my idea.”

“They were from your pile.” And before Roger can point out that the kitten ears most certainly weren’t (although they are sort of cute, not that he’s ever going to admit that), Freddie goes on, “and I wasn’t the one who climbed me like a barricade at the merest suggestion.” The heat in his voice, coupled with the look Freddie sends him, are a bit much in his post-orgasmic state. Freddie can be ruthless like that.

“Fine. You can have tomorrow,” Roger says as he gets up from the sofa, torn between doing up his soiled trousers or just chucking them right there and making his way to the shower in the buff. “But that’ll be the last time I let you get away so easily.”

“Looking forward to it,” Freddie replies with a wink. 

“I’ll make you eat your words,” Roger grumbles as he takes off his last remaining clothes, leaving them in a careless heap on the floor. He crosses the room, but then stops when he reaches the doorway, turning around to look at Freddie. “Need anything though? Wet flannel? Water?” 

“More whiskey?” Freddie is eyeing the empty bottle with an expression of intense sadness. 

Always tempting… but they both already have quite a buzz going, and Roger doesn’t want to spoil tomorrow with a hangover. “We’ll see about that,” Roger says. By the time he returns from the shower, Freddie will probably have forgotten about it anyway. 

“You could just stand there a bit longer, let me ogle you.” Freddie lets an appreciative gaze wander all over Roger’s naked body. 

Roger gives Freddie both the finger and a little bum wriggle before stepping out into the hallway. 

“A kiss,” Freddie shout after him. “I need a kiss!”

Roger stops and closes his eyes. He can just about see the pretty pout on Freddie’s face, the way he’ll stomp his foot against the cushions to get his will. 

Then he counts down from ten and tells himself that _surely_ , he is not so completely whipped. 

He gets to six before turns around and walks back into the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I didn't really get to the kinky part yet - that starts in the next chapter 😄


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the updated tags for potential squicks before reading - or don't check if you prefer the surprise 😊

Roger wakes up to a ray of sunshine falling through the curtains and something soft tickling his stomach. He yawns and - without opening his eyes - lets one hand drop down. It lands in a mess of thick, curly hair and Roger smiles as another feather-light kiss lands right next to his navel.

Nice.

“Thought you’d never wake up,” Freddie grumbles.

“‘m not,” Roger replies, stretching out his arms and legs as far as they will go, “Why would I, when I’m having the loveliest dream.”

“Are you? Hmm, then I’ll have to make sure not to disturb you, won’t I?” Soft lips trace a path down to his hip bones, making him squirm with ticklishness. Fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, and the anticipation alone is enough send the first, sluggish curls of arousal through him.

Until Roger remembers with a jolt that today is the first day of Freddie’s grand toy exploration adventure. He looks down to check if anything alarming is about to happen to his nether regions. But there’s only Freddie, looking absolutely lovely in a pair of yellow pyjama pants and nothing else, unhurriedly planting one kiss after the other on his lower belly. He looks up at Roger, fringe falling into his eyes, and Roger quickly clamps his eyes shut again and pretends to be asleep.

It’s a thoroughly unconvincing act, of course, but Freddie doesn’t comment. He just lifts the waistband and starts pulling his pants down. Roger - in his dream, of course! - lifts his hips to help slide them off, and then his cock is engulfed in slick, wet heat. Freddie doesn’t do much apart from sucking lightly, but it’s amazing to feel his dick slowly come to life as it fills up and hardens inside Freddie’s mouth.

After a while, Freddie pulls off almost completely only to swallow him down again, and then he repeats that action until Roger is gripping the sheets and swearing at the ceiling. They should make a tradition of this, he thinks. A morning blowjob, once a week, doesn’t that sound like a grand idea?

He moans out loud when Freddie sucks at just the head of his now completely hard cock, swirling his tongue around it in maddeningly fast circles. This won’t take long, Roger realises. Freddie’s going exactly for all the things that get him going, pinning down his hips with one arm to stop Roger from thrusting into his mouth. Clever fingers stroke over his balls, a fluttering light touch in contrast to the tight embrace of his lips and tongue. Roger can feel it building in the base of his spine and the tops of his thighs, a spring coiling tighter and tighter, getting ready to…

Suddenly all touch is gone, leaving Roger confused and desperate for more. “Hey, what…” He pushes himself up onto his forearms and squints down at Freddie, who is lying on his side now, propped up on his elbow and observing Roger with a smug grin on his face.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asks coquettishly.

“No, I hated every second _of course_ I bloody well enjoyed that why has it stopped!” Roger realises his voice is more of a whine than the imposing growl he was aiming for.

Freddie traces his fingers over Roger’s hip, but keeps them well away from his straining erection. “Good. Because you’ll get more of that today.”

“Alright, brilliant.” Roger lies back down on the bed and gestures towards his cock. “Get on with it then.”

Freddie chuckles. “Not right now. Later.”

What a daft plan! “How d’you mean later? I’m right there, you know, won’t take more than a minute!”

“For now, I have something else in mind.” Freddie reaches for his bedside drawer, which triggers a Pavlovian reaction in Roger. Good things come out of that drawer. Lube, for example, he really wouldn’t mind a bit of that right now.

But what Freddie ends up putting on the bed between them decidedly isn’t lube. It’s not any sex toy Roger recognises, except… no, he _has_ seen it before. The transparent hollow dildo thing from yesterday. He never got around to asking what it's for.

A bit of trepidation builds in his stomach. “Uhm,” he says. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the occasional bout of butt play, but that thing is quite girthy. And at this time in the morning? “Uhm, look,” he starts again. “We can do that, I’m not saying no, but could I have a cuppa to wake up properly first? And perhaps a trip to the bathroom, a shower…”

Freddie looks between him and the thing. “Roger, my dear, where do you think this goes?”

Roger thinks for a moment. A _hollow_ dildo. “Oh. Not my bum then?”

Freddie grins impishly. “Not your bum, no.”

Perhaps it’s a kind of fleshlight then. Or is Freddie expecting him to fuck him with that thing on? He is a bit of a size queen. And Roger would do that in a heartbeat, although it still seems a bit heavy for - he squints at the old-fashioned alarm clock on Freddie’s bedside table - ten in the morning. But some attention, _any_ attention on his cock would be lovely right about now.

“It’s a cock cage.”

Roger’s musings screech to an abrupt halt. “It’s a _what_?”

“A cock cage,” Freddie repeats, the ‘c’s clicking crisply. He’s got his shoulders drawn back, chin up, in that perfect posture that he always uses to hide his anxiety behind.

“Alright, cool,” Roger says, trying not to betray his scepticism at that combination of words. “So…”

“Look here.” Freddie picks it up. “This goes over your cock, and then this ring closes behind your balls. And then we lock the padlock.” He jiggles the part in question.

Roger looks at him expectantly. “And then?”

“And then…” Freddie gives him a positively evil smile. “Then you wait until I decide to take it off again.”

“Does it…” Roger sits up and takes the device from Freddie. The material is hard and inflexible, not exactly inviting. “Do I wank with it or something?”

“No!”, Freddie exclaims. “That’s the point.”

It must have been the lingering sleepiness. Or just that his brain was reluctant to leave the one-way track towards orgasm it’s been on ever since he woke up. Because it’s only then that he understands what Freddie is saying. “Wait, the first day of our epic sex holiday is going to be me not having any fun?”

Freddie scowls. “You just got a blowjob!”

“But without the best part! Not that the part we did wasn’t great,” Roger quickly backtracks. The last thing he wants is to send Freddie into a sulk that would guarantee an end to all blowjobs for the foreseeable future.

“We’re going to get to the other part as well,” Freddie says. “It’ll just take a little patience, darling.”

Oh good. Patience. Roger’s strong suit.

“Think of it as a blowjob that starts at dusk and ends at dawn.” Freddie bites his lip and frowns at Roger, a flash of hurt in his eyes. “Or would you rather not even try it?”

Roger mentally takes a step back and tries not to think with his hard-on for a second. He’s been a bit of a tit, hasn’t he? Agreeing to experimentation and then shooting down Freddie’s first idea right out of the gate.

“Of course, I’ll try it, love,” he says, taking Freddie’s hand in his own. He can’t quite bring himself to add a ‘Sounds like a fantastic idea’, because frankly, it’s a colossally stupid idea and he hates everything about it. “I’m not going to quit on day one,” he says instead. He lifts Freddie’s hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Come on, let’s try this.”

“We’ll have to wait a bit until you’re, er, tumescence has gone down again,” Freddie says with a nod at his still pretty impressive erection.

Roger puts his chin in his hands and blinks up at Freddie. “You know what’s the best way to get rid of it,” he asks sweetly.

Freddie doesn’t respond to that directly. Instead, he reaches into the drawer again, and tosses a small plastic packet towards Roger. Inside, there’s a baffling assortment of small plastic rings, zips and tubes.

As it turns out, a blowjob is only the second best way to get rid of an erection. The number one best way of all is to try and puzzle out the precise workings of the gazillion parts that make up a male chastity device. It’s like assembling an IKEA sideboard, but on your dick.

“How does it feel,” Freddie asks when the padlock has finally been put into the correct place.

Roger moves his hips left and right. “Odd,” he says. He lets a bit of a whine creep into his voice, hoping Freddie might take pity on him. “Really cold.” The lube they used to slide the cage on is drying uncomfortably on his skin. “A bit silly,” he adds finally, when no pity is forthcoming. For all the attention that is currently centred on his dick, he feels decidedly unsexy.

Freddie slides one finger along the ring that keeps it in place, brushing against his balls which are still full and tight from the earlier blowjob. His cock twitches within its confines. “Do you think you can wear it for a while?”

Roger shrugs. “I suppose.” To be honest, he still doesn’t really see the point of this exercise.

“Good.” Freddie picks up the miniature keys and twirls them around his fingers.

“So what’s the plan then? I keep this thing on and then you suck me off tonight?”

Freddie purses his lips. “If I choose to do so,” he says slowly. “If you've been _good._ ”

Now this is not something they usually do. “Er. What would you like me to do then,” Roger asks, trying to get into the spirit of the game. Should he be adding a ‘sir’ or something at this point?

“Oh, you just go about your day, darling. But this,” Freddie gestures at his trapped cock, “is mine today.” A dark, predatory look comes into his eyes. “I get to take it out and play with it and then lock it back up whenever I choose to do so.”

“I’m still not sure I like this plan,” Roger mutters.

“You can have your revenge on me tomorrow.”

Knowing Freddie, he’s probably looking forward to that. And now that he’s thinking about it, Roger is looking forward to it as well. Perhaps Freddie’s idea has _some_ merit.

Freddie gets up from the bed. “Let’s see about that cuppa,” he says with a glance at the clock. “Phoebe should have been come and gone by now.”

Roger grimaces at the thought of Phoebe taking in the state of the living room. He’d know better than to try and tidy anything up, but… how does that age-old meme go: What has been seen, cannot be unseen... But then, Freddie’s trusty valet (although both of them resent that moniker, which is why Roger insists on using it) has seen worse, hasn’t he? Much worse.

~~~

The bad news is, Roger hates the cock cage. It’s uncomfortable, constantly in the way and always on his mind, only not in a sexy way.

The good news is that Freddie doesn’t have any more patience than he does, so the first-time it comes off is when they are barely finished with their breakfast.

“Gonna come all over your pretty kimono,” Roger whispers. After the aborted blowjob just an hour ago, he went from zero to a hundred faster than his beloved Aston Martin. “‘s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

“You think you’re going to come,” Freddie muses. He’s sitting in Roger’s lap, wanking him with a wild grin on his face. “How cute.” He buries his fingers in Roger’s hair and slides their lips messily together.

“Hmmm,” Roger moans into his mouth, his balls drawing up tighter against his body. He thrusts up into Freddie’s hand. Close, so close now…

Freddie’s hand stills.

“Keep going,” Roger commands, putting his hand over Freddie’s and trying to get him to move. It really won’t take much now.

Freddie gets up and takes a step back, breathing heavily as he stares down at Roger. “Still haven’t learned your lesson, have you?”

“I…” Roger gapes at this bossy version of Freddie that has somehow manifested in their house this morning.

Freddie puts one finger under Roger’s chin and tilts his head back, inspecting his face closely. “My, and I thought you were clever,”

Roger wants nothing more than bend him over the table and fuck that patronizing tone right out of him, perhaps mashing his face into the open butter dish for good measure. But that’s not the game right now. Which doesn’t mean Roger has to take it lying down.

He squares his jaw and holds Freddie’s gaze as he slowly but with determination moves his hand towards his cock.

“Don’t you dare,” Freddie hisses and slaps it away with surprising force. He picks up the cock cage that he’d carelessly tossed aside earlier.

“Oh, come _on,_ ” Roger groans and lets his head fall back in frustration.

“Darling, you have not been in any way been well-behaved.” God, Roger is going to strangle him if he keeps up that tone.

“You don’t want me well-behaved, you tosser,” he growls. He can see the heat in Freddie’s cheeks, he _knows_ Freddie wants him to push, to argue, to take control. He _likes_ that.

“Someone,” Freddie sing-songs, “is being a bit of a brat.”

Roger stares at him, uncomprehending. Freddie seems to be having a lot of fun with this… role-play or whatever it is. And while Roger still doesn’t truly get it, the fact that Freddie seems to be enjoying himself, makes it a little easier to act along. “Are you going to do that all day long,” he pouts. “Wind me up and then put me back in that torture device.”

“Good to see you’re catching up. Took you long enough.” Freddie sits back down in his chair and pours himself some more tea. “Now we just have to wait until you’re a bit less excited, don’t we?”

Roger leans back in his chair, huffing out a laugh. “Good god. I’ll be a horny mess all day, you realise that.”

Freddie looks at him as if he is really not the brightest biscuit in the box.

Oh.

Oh alright.

“I’m going to be completely useless,” Roger continues, letting his voice go a little breathy, “unable to think about anything but getting off.” He rubs a hand over his thigh, not high enough to disobey Freddie’s orders, but giving himself a sweet tease of what he could do nonetheless. “About _you_ getting me off.”

“What a wanton little tart you are.” Freddie takes a dainty sip from his cup, eyes fixed on the newspaper in front of him.

Roger bites back a grin. He's sitting at their lavishly laid breakfast table with his cock hanging out, so there’s not much use in denying it. And there is something to the idea of being a drooling, sex-obsessed plaything to be toyed with as Freddie sees fit. It's not what they're used to doing, but then, that’s the whole idea of this experiment, isn’t it? A whole day spent in perpetual horniness, all building up to the grand finale… Yes. Yes, he might be able to work with that.

~~~

If it weren’t for that bloody cage that is. It’s confining him, suffocating him, a cause of constant discomfort. No fun at all.

It’s _almost_ worth it for the relief when it comes off - and Freddie rarely lasts more than an hour before he reaches for the keys - but the process of putting that dreadful piece of plastic on again…

“Are you alright,” Freddie asks, looking up from his task, a frown of concentration on his face.

“Yeah,” Roger says, quickly trying to wipe all trace of displeasure off his face. “Yeah, go on.”

Freddie fiddles with the lock a moment longer, but then he sits back on his haunches. “We could leave it off,” he says, speculatively.

Christ, but he’s a sight. Spit-slick, reddened lips, dark eyes wide with arousal. Roger would have him right then and there if it weren’t against the rules. “What? No! I can do one day.” That would be the height of defeat. Throwing the towel on the very first day.

“In which case,” Freddie continues as if Roger hadn’t said anything, “you’d have to behave all on your own, without any help.”

Freddie’s going somewhere with this, isn’t he? “Oh?”

“Honestly, darling, I’m not sure you even deserve this,” he says. He pulls the cage off, and holds it up, glowering at Roger. “I don’t get the feeling you really _appreciate_ it.”

Like hell he doesn’t. Roger barely holds back a scoff, remembering just in time that he’s supposed to be on his best behaviour.

“So lets see how well you do without it, shall we?”

“What are the rules then,” Roger asks. He’ll be thrilled to be rid of the bloody thing, but he needs to understand what Freddie wants out of it.

“You don’t get to come until I say so,” Freddie says, in a tone as if he were repeating himself for the twentieth time today. Which, thinking about it, he might well be. “Same as before.”

“And apart from that…?”

“Apart from that you are free to do as you like.”

Immediately, Roger’s hand goes to his cock, lips stretching into a wide smirk as he challenges Freddie to deny him. But Freddie merely tilts his head curiously and watches him pleasure himself.

It speaks of the woeful state of his mental faculties that it takes Roger a languid stroke or two to realise what a dreadful mistake he has just made. Because this isn't going to get him anywhere, is it? He can either go through with it and wank himself to completion, which will be a short, joyful reprieve but utterly disappoint Freddie and get their quarantine off to a horrible start. Or he can stop, and effectively hand Freddie his win. Or…

“Do whatever I like,” he muses, trying to distract Freddie from the fact that he’s slowly gentling off his strokes. “So if I decided I wanted to eat you out over the dining table, that would be a yes?”

Freddie’s working hard now to keep his expression neutral. “If I think you deserve it, I might allow it,” he says, and inspects his fingersnails. Trying a little too hard to appear unaffected.

“Or suck you off in the shower? Take my sweet time with it, just how you like it?”

Freddie’s knuckles turn white as his fingers clench in the expensive kelim covering the floor in front of Roger’s armchair. “You can certainly try,” he offers, still holding Roger’s gaze. “Perhaps I’ll let you.”

“Alright then.” Roger picks up the hateful cock cage and throws it in the general direction of the “no”-pile. “I can work with that.”

~~~

“I’m busy.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Roger purrs, continuing to hump Freddie’s arse lazily.

Freddie throws him a look over his shoulder, a look that says ‘you are grinding six inches of prime kobe beef against me, how am I supposed to ‘not mind’ that?’ He briefly shifts his hips against the sofa, but then turns his attention back to his art auction catalogue and turns another page. “No self-control whatsoever,” he notes disparagingly.

“Hmm,” Roger replies cleverly, enjoying the friction of another languid glide against Freddie’s backside. But then, it’s ten at night, and he hasn’t done much else the whole day. He’s been tempted to just rub out a quick one when he’s been to the loo, only the image of Freddie’s knowing face - half smug, half disappointed - keeping him from finishing himself off.

It’s weird, this constant state of arousal. In a way, it had been easier with the cock cage on, because off-putting as it was, it did help to keep everything in check. But now he’s just walking around with a constant semi, rubbing up against Freddie whenever he feels like it. And he gets the feeling that Freddie likes it too, this constant attention on him, knowing that all of Roger’s thoughts are on him even when they’re not in the same room.

It’s adds a shift in the dynamic too, although it’s still somewhat muddled. Nominally, Roger is free to do as he likes, to touch and use Freddie’s body as he sees fit. But ultimately, he can only do so much, because after a day of near constant teasing, he’s ready to go off after a handful of strokes - and Freddie hasn’t given him permission. Not that it’s entirely clear what Freddie’s even going to do if he breaks that order. But somehow, Roger believes it will be worth it if he doesn’t. If he waits to see where Freddie is going to take this.

He tried to keep himself occupied with other things. But he didn’t have the attention span to watch a movie, or read a book. Even mindless scrolling through insta proves too much for him, because it only ever takes five before his mind (and often enough, his hand too) is drawn back to the sweet ache in his balls.

“I really want you,” Roger whispers in Freddie’s ear, punctuating his words with another thrust of his hips. It’s true, after all. And who knows, perhaps he can sway him. Or perhaps this has been Freddie’s end game all along. Rile him up so much that Roger will pound him right through the mattress.

“I’m sure you do, darling,” Freddie mumbles, the hoarseness of his voice betraying his seemingly unaffected words. He shakes his head. “You really are shameles, aren't you?”

“Do you like me like that,” Roger asks, nibbling a trail along the side of Freddie’s lovely sinewy neck, “your lewd, sex-obsessed, dim-witted plaything?”

At that, Freddie turns around so that Roger ends up between his legs, his cock perfectly slotted into the crease of his thigh. Freddie’s fingers play over Roger’s cheek, and in his keyed-up state even that is enough to send a shiver through him. “Would I be dating you otherwise,” Freddie asks.

Roger answers that bit of cheek with a luxurious thrust of his cock. God, it feels so good, even through his trousers, that he honestly doesn’t know whether this time he’ll be able stop himself in time if Freddie doesn’t intervene.

Freddie chuckles. “Oh my, you want it badly, don’t you?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Roger doesn’t even try to hide his eye-roll.

“And you think this attitude is going to make me give it to you?”

Freddie is looking way too smug. Roger wonders what he’d do if he took over - climbed on top of him, hitched up his legs around his hips, held him down and rutted against him until he finally found his release. Or if he flipped him over, pulled down his pants and fingered him until he begged to be fucked. Again, the thought that Freddie might be waiting for exactly this, is taking hold of him.

But before he can make up his mind, Freddie has put a delicate finger to the notch above Roger’s sternum and started pushing him back with a stern look.

Not prepared to cede control yet, it seems.

Roger sits back on his haunches and watches Freddie wriggle out of his sweat pants. His mouth pops open when he sees what’s underneath it.

Freddie is wearing black, half-transparent pants with a row of buttons down the front. His half-hard cock is straining against the fabric, and the sheer material offers an opaque view of what’s waiting for him inside.

They had fought over those pants, Roger remembers. Turns out, it didn’t even matter, since Roger would have put them on Freddie anyway.

Freddie casually drops a hand to rest on his thigh. He observes Roger for a moment, obviously pleased by his reaction. Then he licks his lips and leans his head back against the arm rest of the sofa. “How about you earn it, darling?”

Roger tells himself it’s all part of the act, the way he falls down head-first into Freddie’s crotch before he has even finished the sentence. He’s not supposed to be reluctant and challenging after all. Which otherwise he absolutely would be, of course.

There’s a bit of wetness against his cheek, telling him that Freddie is as affected by this long day of constant teasing as he is. It’s a bit curious, because Freddie could have had as many orgasms as he liked. It’s what Roger would have done, if their roles were reversed. He’d have made Freddie suck him off over and over, rubbing it in his face (both literally and figuratively) that only he gets to do that. In fact, now that he’s had a taste of it, Roger thinks, he absolutely _should_ do that one of these days.

But Freddie chose to tease himself as much as he did Roger, stopping whenever he got close himself. There’s probably an interesting bit of psychological insight in there, if Roger weren’t too horny for all higher thought. Later. He’ll think about that later, when he doesn’t have Freddie’s magnificent lace-clad erection in his face.

He takes the head into his mouth and presses his tongue against it. There’s something about doing this through the silky fabric of the pants, this barely-there barrier between them. There’s something even better about gripping the top of the pants with both hands, and ripping open the neat row of buttons (and a good bit of the stitching too, from the sound of it). Something that certainly has to do with the shocked “Fuck!” coming from Freddie and the way his cock practically leaps up at Roger, begging to be sucked.

Roger ducks his head, licking at Freddie’s balls first. He can feel them tightening under his tongue and a dark glow of pride swells in him. He could get him off within a minute, if he really wanted to, or take his sweet time and torture him until he’s coming apart at the seams. As always, that decision isn’t an easy one, impatience and the desire to draw it out warring inside him. But Freddie had told him to work for it, which doesn’t sound like he wants it the quick way.

He licks a long stripe up to the head, using the opportunity to get a look at Freddie. He’s propped up on his elbows, observing him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Like that,” Roger asks, just to make sure he’s got it right. God knows he doesn’t want to squander his chance of finally getting off.

Freddie licks his lips, taking a moment to answer. He looks ridiculously good like that, his sharp cheekbones highlighted by a black halo of his hair, and Roger is fighting the urge to just dive back in and devour him whole. “Yeah, like that,” he whispers hoarsely. “You can…” Freddie stops himself, clears his throat and blinks his eyes a couple of times, clearly trying to get some semblance of control back. “Finger me,” he demands, still not sounding as authoritative as he probably wants to.

A jolt of excitement shoots through Roger. He really likes the direction this is going. He tries to get up, but Freddie hitches a leg up onto his shoulder and keeps him down. “Gotta fetch some lube?”

“Use spit.”

So the very day when they have enough lube to drown themselves in it, is the day that Freddie decides to go for improvised? “I’m not sure that’s enough,” Roger cautions. It might work in a pinch, but if Freddie plans to get fucked later (and god, Roger really fucking hopes he does), that’s really not the most forward-thinking plan.

Freddie raises one eyebrow at him, and now there is that the haughty, condescending look from earlier back in place. “Got to make sure there’s enough then.” He nods towards his cock and the barest hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Work for it,” he repeats.

Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Roger squeezes his eyes shut as something close to humiliation washes over him, the sting of it blunted only by the fact that it's Freddie asking him to drool over his cock. No one else, he thinks as he sinks down, in an inexpert act of submission that feeds into his arousal. No one else could make him do this, and enjoy it too.

He breathes deeply through his nose as he slides down until his lips meet the fist he’s got wrapped around the base. He’s going carefully and slowly, pulling off when the tip touches the back of his throat. It’s not his area of expertise. Freddie rarely asks for this, preferring the intensity of lips and tongue working on the head, with Roger’s hands taking care of the rest. He doesn’t usually aim for this kind of dominance either, preferring to let himself be swept along. But now, Roger can feel the twitches going through him every time Roger gags and is forced to pull off, the sharp intakes of Freddie’s breath whenever he hollows his cheeks and gives him that long, wet slide down and up again.

It doesn’t take more than two or three goes of this before spit starts to dribble out of the corners of his mouth and onto his hand. He collects as much of it as he can between his fingers and slides them into the cleft of Freddie’s arse. Freddie shifts, trying to spread his legs wider, and jerks his hips in the process, causing Roger to pull off completely, spluttering and gasping for breath.

Two fingers come down to press against his spit-slick lips, smearing the fluid that has collected there. Roger looks up at Freddie to find his eyes transfixed on his face. He wants to make a quip, throw a challenge Freddie’s way, just to disturb the immediacy, the unguarded intimacy of the moment. But they’re in too deep for that.

Without looking away, he presses the tip of his middle finger to Freddie’s hole, circling briefly before pushing it in, then takes Freddie's cock back into his mouth a split-second later. The hand falls away from his face and Freddie’s eyes flutter closed, his face scrunched up with pleasure. But before Roger can properly savour the moment, Freddie has caught himself again.

His hand moves to Roger’s forehead, stroking his hair out of his face. “If you finger me open nice and well before I come,” Freddie rasps, voice a lot more reedy than he must be hoping for, “I might let you fuck me after.”

The words, and their promise, are enough to send a desperate twitch through Roger’s neglected cock. He immediately pushes his finger in deeper to show how on board he is with that plan. Which is very. He crooks his finger and brushes it along Freddie’s prostate. Freddie's pretence of being in control crumbles as he lets his head fall back against the armrest with a whimper.

From then on, the only difficulty is to make sure Freddie doesn’t come too early, and that he stays slick enough for Roger to stretch him open. It’s a delicate little dance Roger is performing with his mouth and his fingers, but Roger is nothing if not dexterous. Freddie is so tight and hot around his fingers. God, Roger can’t wait to be inside him, to be completely engulfed by him. However, he also knows that once he is, it will be a short ride. So he focuses on Freddie, to get him loose and relaxed, and to draw those sounds out of him that never fail to make Roger’s blood sing.

Fingernails scrape over his shoulders, and Roger pulls off just enough that he can murmur a rough, “How do you want it,” against the head of Freddie’s cock. He doesn’t have to ask if Freddie is close, the tremors in his thighs are telling him that.

“Your mouth,” Freddie whispers, voice gravelly with desire.

Roger doesn’t bother with an answer, he just takes Freddie as deep as he can, and spreads the three fingers he’s got inside him as far as they will open. If he’s honest, he had secretly hoped that Freddie might have changed his mind and would let Roger fuck him to completion. There’s something about feeling Freddie come apart around his cock that doesn’t compare to anything else, the way his muscles spasm and tighten… But if this is how Freddie wants it, Roger is happy to oblige.

The steady stream of moans and curses breaks down, tilts, condenses until all that’s left is the holy trinity of “fuck Rog please”, repeated in every inflection known to man. Roger tightens his lips around the head, flicks his tongue, and curls his fingers up until the tips rub against Freddie’s sweet spot - and then it’s there, the welcome bitterness on his tongue, the rhythmic clenching around his fingers, the desperate groan echoing through the room.

He swallows quickly and rests his cheek against Freddie’s drawn up knee, waiting until Freddie opens his slightly unfocused eyes and looks at him. Roger takes that as his cue and tries to get up and get one of the oversized lube bottles still stowed away in a box in a corner of the room, but Freddie shakes his head.

Roger bites down on the inside of his cheek. Oh fuck, Freddie really wants to go for it. Roger tries his best to pretend he isn't ridiculously turned on by the thought of fucking Freddie raw, because that’s not very kind of him, is it? But then, he did get Freddie nice and wet, and his cock is literally drooling with precome - and he won’t last long anyway.

So he pushes Freddie’s knee further towards his chest and withdraws his fingers from his fluttering hole. He can’t wait to feel those small post-orgasmic twitches around his dick. Riled up as he is, they might even be enough to finish him off. He could just press the head inside, feel Freddie squeeze his most sensitive part… Before the fantasy alone can get too much, he reaches for his cock, lines it up to push in and-

“No.” Freddie’s eyes are locked on his face as he says it.

Roger exhales shakily as he holds himself back. “Need a minute?” Dammit, he wants it now, wants it so badly he’s trembling with it. But he’s waited the whole day, so what’s another minute?

Freddie shakes his head. “Changed my mind.”

_Fuck!_

“Oh. Okay.” Roger tries not broadcast the depth of his disappointment as he sits back on his heels. God, he really wants nothing more than to bury himself inside Freddie and pound him until he forgets his own name. But sometimes he gets too sensitive right after he’s had an orgasm - and without lube it might be a bit much.

“I’m impressed,” Freddie says, and when Roger looks up at him, he finds him smirking.

“Impressed,” Roger repeats.

“I didn’t think you’d take it so graciously.”

Roger wipes his fingers on Freddie’s discarded sweat pants and frowns at him. “What do you take me for?” Does Freddie think he wouldn’t understand, or try to guilt him into doing something that doesn't feel right? Throw a tantrum to get his way? “So what’s the plan now,” he asks when Freddie merely shrugs. He doesn’t really care what it is, he’ll hump Freddie’s leg if that’s what it’ll take to get off tonight. A wanton little thing indeed.

“Well.” Freddie stretches out his arms over his head. “How about a drink then an ep or two of _Boardwalk Empire?_ ”

Roger gestures at his straining erection. “I meant your plans for me.” Freddie appears to be a bit slow. Fucked silly, Roger thinks smugly.

“I think you should go wash your face.” It’s the hawkish way Freddie observes his reaction that finally makes Roger realise what is happening. That it’s not Freddie who is being slow. “And could you bring me a some tissues and a fresh pair of pants while you’re up anyway? There’s a dear.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Freddie just smiles sweetly and shakes his head.

“I… you… you _promised_!” Roger is spluttering with outrage at this betrayal.

“Uh-uh.” Freddie holds up one finger and waggles it side-to-side, like a school teacher reprimanding a pupil. It makes Roger’s blood boil. “I never promised anything.”

“You said if I were _good_ -”

“...that I _might_ let you fuck me. That I _might_ let you come.” He eyes Roger critically. “And I mist say, you were more a bit naughty.”

“Oh come _on_.” Freddie can’t be serious, can he? All that build-up? For nothing? “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m having immense fun right now.” And yeah, Freddie looks supremely amused. “You’re very pretty when you’re cross, darling.

Roger closes his eyes and wills himself to keep calm. Thing is, he is so close, he has no idea if it’s actually possible for him to come down from this at all. God, he’ll go crazy if he has to stay like this until midnight (when it will be officially his turn, and he will have a wank right in front of Freddie, and he will make him watch every second, just because he can.)

“I will grant you one thing though.”

Good lord, Freddie thrives in that role, doesn’t he? Lording over him like Joffrey Baratheon at his most bratty. It takes all of Roger’s self-control not to flip him round and give him a good spanking. “What,” he mutters sullenly.

“I’ll let you have the cage back if you want to.”

The thought of that horrible thing fills Roger with a wrath of Biblical proportions. He never wanted the powers to smite stuff so badly. “Yeah, you can put that where the sun don’t shine.”

“What, England?” Freddie titters at his feeble joke and Roger’s half-formed plans for tomorrow suddenly take a very dark and definitive turn. There were an awful lot of floggers in those boxes. And gags. He vividly remembers the gags.

“Oh my.” Roger returns to the present to find Freddie’s shimmering eyes glued to his. “Am I going to be in for a treat tomorrow?”

“You won’t know what hit you,” Roger promises darkly. "Although you will know _who_." He pulls up his pants, stuffing his uncooperative cock inside with some difficulty. Then he looks back at Freddie. “Or was that the plan all along?”

Freddie shrugs and sits up. “I can't say I had much of a plan to be honest.” He strokes his fingers over Roger’s knee, and even that innocent touch is enough to make his cock jump. “This was really just a spontaneous idea.”

“Brilliant.” Roger shifts uneasily on the sofa, trying to find a position that isn’t squishing his painfully sensitive balls.

“I haven’t been too mean, have I?” Freddie peers up at him from under his lashes with a concerned expression. “You can tell me if it’s too much. But I thought-”

Roger shakes his head. “It’s alright. It’s… Well, it’s nothing I’d ever do voluntarily. Honestly, it feels pretty crappy right now. Pointless.” Before Freddie can cut in, he continues, “But hey, I can come as often as I want to tomorrow.” He pauses for a second, allowing the images to fill his mind. “How I want. Wherever I want.”

His voice goes husky as he thinks about painting Freddie’s body with rope after rope of come. His lovely big cock. His face. Making him swallow it all down until he’s filled to the brim. Coming deep inside him, then plugging him up until Roger’s ready to use him again.

He’s not sure how much he’ll be physically capable of, but it will be a good opportunity to test his limits. Both their limits. And judging by the way Freddie is looking at him, he’s just as eager as Roger to find out.

Now, all this really isn't helping with the state of his nether regions. Perhaps it’s time to watch Steve Buscemi bribe some ugly-as-fuck American mobsters. Although with his luck, there’ll probably be a spicy sex scene taking up half of tonight’s episode.

He gets up from the sofa and hisses as his pants tighten over his swollen cock. Tomorrow, he thinks grimy. He’ll make up for it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [pic of the cock cage](https://i.ibb.co/HCDccQ9/cock-cage.jpg) I had in mind (NSFW).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first half of what was supposed to be one chapter, but I split it because it was getting so long 😄
> 
> As always, look at the updated tags for info on what's to come - or don't if you prefer the surprise. There are some links to (mildly) NSFW pictures of the toys used in the text.

Roger strolls through the sitting room, cup of tea in hand, laptop under his arm, and humming along cheerfully to the song that's playing on the radio. As soon as he passes into Freddie’s line of sight, he feels the gaze of his dark brown eyes bore into him like two solid steel hooks. “Want one too,” Roger asks, raising his cup

The expression on Freddie’s face clouds over and he shakes his head with a huff, turning back to the notebook he’s scribbling into.

Roger shrugs with an unbothered grin and heads into the room next door. He’s got some research to do.

~~~

Freddie’s been like that all day. He doesn’t admit it, but Roger knows that he’s just itching for Roger to continue their game from the day before.

Which Roger is.

Only not the way Freddie wants him to.

The fire of arousal that felt so unquenchable last night, had somehow gone down by the time Roger woke up in the morning. He’s feeling energetic and a bit restless, but his mind is sharp, unlike the constant, hazy distraction he felt yesterday when he was in the thick of it.

And while Freddie basically pours himself all over his lap at every given opportunity, making it abundantly clear how ready he is to fulfil every one of Roger’s fantasies, Roger is not willing to let him win so easily. Instead, he prepares. He spends the day doing some reading, about edging, which he learns is the name for what they did yesterday. About the different devices he’s intending to use today, and how to employ them most efficiently (and safely). About all the many things he could do to Freddie.

Freddie, of course, doesn’t like it one bit. He hates being made to wait, he hates not being told things, and most of all, he hates being ignored. Roger feigns wide-eyed innocence and pretends that this is not what he’s doing at all.

It’s nice, this slow build, how it keeps Freddie wondering what is going to happen and when. If anything is going to happen at all, of if Roger is planning to simply refuse him at the end of the day as payback. Tit for tat.

When Roger still hasn’t revealed his plans after lunch, Freddie gets fed up and plants himself in front of the television, watching one obnoxious cooking show after the next and very visibly sulking.

Still, he can’t completely hide the hopeful glint in his eyes every time Roger walks by.

And Roger can’t completely hide his satisfied smirk every time he passes through the room, pretending not to notice anything amiss.

~~~

By the time Roger finally comes to stand in front of the sofa, the sun already being an orange glow on the horizon, Freddie’s expression is mutinous.

“You look like you could do with a shower,” Roger says.

Freddie shrugs and keeps his eyes glued to the telly.

Roger licks his lips nervously. He isn’t quite sure how to start this. Whenever they played with this sort of power exchange before, it always developed organically - a playful suggestion when they were making out, a bit of verbal sparring on the way home. It was never this premeditated, and he’s not sure he can pull it off. He doesn't have those dark, brooding looks he associates with the role.

He steps closer so that he’s blocking the view to the telly, his shadow falling over Freddie. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” he says quietly, noting with satisfaction how Freddie’s eyes snap up to his face. He holds his gaze for a moment, hoping he can hide his nervousness behind a stern facade. “Come along,” he orders and turns around immediately, walking towards the door and praying that Freddie will play along. “And turn that rubbish off.”

It takes an agonizingly long moment until the chatter from the telly stops and the room is filled with silence. Freddie takes his time getting up as well: When Roger has reached the door to the bathroom, he can only just hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Roger logs it all away for later in the meaner part of his mind, every single second that Freddie is making him wait, every hesitation to follow orders.

Roger greets him at the door with an ironic smile. “Glad you could make it.”

Freddie just rolls his eyes, as if this isn’t exactly what he’s been waiting for all day.

Roger is tempted to teach him a little lesson in manners right away, but first things first. “I put some clothes for you inside. I want you to put them on after your shower.”

Freddie definitely looks interested now, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to guess at what Roger might have selected for him.

“Take as much time as you need, then come to the bedroom. We’re using green, yellow and red. Alright?”

Freddie’s eyes darken as he nods his consent. They don’t indulge in the kind of play that requires a system like that too often, but today there is no way around it. Seems like that promise alone is enough to Freddie excited.

Roger only hopes he can live up to whatever fantasies Freddie is envisioning right now.

He heads to the bedroom and gets dressed himself, in worn blue jeans and a comfortable white shirt. He spends way too much time going through his blazers. Freddie appreciates a bit of dressing up, but then he’d like to have something that doesn’t feel quite as stuffy. A leather jacket perhaps? Or is that too cliché? He’s a bit annoyed with himself for agonizing over this for so long - it’s Freddie who should get dressed up for him, not the other way round, after all - until he closes the wardrobe door with a thud and simply rolls up his shirt sleeves in a way he knows Freddie is going to appreciate.

Then all he has left to do is fret and makes sure everything is in place, going through his plans in his mind over and over again. Or _plans_ rather. As always, he finds it hard to decide on something definitive.

But when he hears the water in the en-suite bathroom stop running, he draws the curtains, dims the lights, and tries to get a handle on his nervousness. It’s his own fault, really, for raising the expectation like that.

He sits on the bed when Freddie comes in. His cheeks pink from the shower, hair still a little wet and curling up around his collar. The kohl around his eyes makes them look even more luminous, and his full lips are red and inviting with a hint of lipstick. The black silk robe that Roger laid out for him is drawn tightly around his body, as if Freddie were trying to preserve his modesty. Which is oddly endearing, given that it barely reaches down to the middle of his thighs - and that Roger knows exactly what he’s wearing underneath. Which is the opposite of modest.

Roger lets his appreciation show openly on his face, and a coy, flirty smile appears on Freddie’s face as he lets a finger trail down the lapel into the open v of the robe over his chest.

Roger leans back on his hands, enjoying the slow building tension between them. He’s waited long enough to be in a hurry now. “Want to show me what you’ve got then?” he asks.

“You want me to strip for you?” Freddie undulates his narrow hips side to side. He doesn’t have the curves to pull this off, but of course he does anyway. It’s something that Roger has seen often enough, from behind his drum kit usually, and against a backdrop of a cheering crowd and flashing lights. Knowing that this is all for him only makes it that much more irresistible.

“Yeah, give me a show.” That wasn’t part of the plan, but Roger is nothing if not willing to go with the flow. What even are plans? “Might make me go a bit easier on you if you put me in a good mood.”

“Would be easier with music,” Freddie pouts as he runs a hand up his thigh, teasingly lifting the edge of the robe. As if Roger didn’t know what was underneath.

But he hasn’t seen it in the flesh, so he can’t deny he’s dying to see what they look like on Freddie.

Roger tuts and lets a hint of sharpness creep into his voice. “Excuses are _not_ going to put me in a good mood.”

Freddie rolls his eyes and saunters towards him. He waits until Roger has nodded his approval before he bends at the hips and places his hands on Roger’s knees. It makes the satin fabric of the robe fall open over his chest, and through the gap Roger can see the shadowy outline of black lace. It’s just a hint, a carefully calculated tease, but combined with Freddie’s moment of deference and his dark eyes looming just inches from Roger’s face, it makes his blood thrum with arousal.

“I could suck your cock too,” Freddie whispers as he shifts his weight from his left leg to the right. Over the line of his shoulders, Roger can see the outline of his arse bobbing up and down. The thin fabric is clinging to his skin, showing off the dip between his buttocks. He tamps down the impulse to throw Freddie on the bed and just… “Would that put you in an even better mood?”

Roger sits up a bit straighter, so that the tip of their noses brush against each other. Freddie eyes flutter shut and his lips fall open in the expectation of a kiss. Feeling indulgent, Roger presses their lips together for a moment, soft and sweet, before he puts both hands on Freddie’s shoulders. A knowing smirk appears on his boyfriend’s face, and Roger can feel him preparing to go down to his knees, but waiting for the push to get that extra thrill.

Instead, Roger eases him backwards, so that Freddie has to straighten up and take a step back in order not to stumble. “Already thinking it’s time for your reward,” he marvels with a disbelieving shake of the head. Then he sharpens his expression. Time to pull in the reigns a bit. “Take that off,” he orders.

Freddie reaches for the sash, loosening the knot. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, and his slow pace is just on this side of defiance. Which serves Roger just right. When Freddie has finally run out of things that give him an excuse to dawdle, he puts himself in position, waits another two seconds to make sure he has Roger’s full attention, then lets the robe slide off his shoulders.

As often as Roger has seen Freddie naked, it always takes his breath away for a moment. His long legs, narrow hips and especially his slim waist that fills out into surprisingly well-defined shoulders never fail to draw his eye. He was never the biggest fan of body hair, but with Freddie it fits so well, is so much part of him, that he never even considered asking him to shave it off.

Tonight, however, none of those assets holds his attention for long. Because if there is one thing that gets Roger going more than the sight of Freddie naked, it’s the sight of Freddie naked except for a pair of black lacy knickers straining to contain his package. Alright, mostly failing, but that’s only making it better.

And that’s not even the best part, Roger thinks, jittery with anticipation. The best part is yet to come. “Turn around.”

Freddie smiles, then purses his lips to hide it. It’s an expression both teasing a little nervous.

“Go on,” Roger encourages him.

Freddie turns on the spot, ending up in a contrapposto that is only fitting for the bloody piece of art that he is. His arms hang down by his sides, and the muscles in his back shift with every breath he takes, a bit faster than usual as he lets Roger look his fill.

The [knickers](https://i.ibb.co/tZkmXF7/spanking-panties.jpg) have a lacy band running along and between the thighs on each side, perfectly framing the globes of Freddie’s arse. From those bands and the sides of the knickers, six thin strings run towards a bow situated just at the base of his spine. Apart from that, it’s naked skin, waiting for Roger’s touch.

Roger realises that Freddie is peeking at him over his shoulder and has caught him a very undignified slack-jawed stare. Not exactly the intimidating Dom face Roger is trying to project. He fights the urge to get up and tower over Freddie or to grab him in a bid to restore his authority. Instead, he raises one eyebrow and smiles and Freddie. “Very nice,” he says, as if he didn’t feel caught out at all. It sends a pretty flush over Freddie’s skin. “Do you know what they’re called? Oh, and you can turn back around now.”

Freddie looks down at himself for a moment, then back at Roger, shaking his head.

“Words when I’m asking you a question.” Roger keeps his voice friendly and casual, but he can see Freddie’s fingers twitch at his sides. He likes these little reminders of who is in charge.

“Sorry. Of course. No, I don’t know.”

“It’s alright.” Roger waits for another moment, making sure he’s got Freddie’s full attention. “They’re called spanking knickers.”

“Oh.” Freddie’s face practically glows with excitement, and Roger can see him twitch inside said knickers.

“Hmm, is someone getting excited,” Roger teases, ignoring the fact that he’s been excited about them ever since he took them out of their box.

Freddie presses his lips together and nods, only belatedly remembering that he’s expected to answer the question. When his mouth pops open, Roger is ready.

“Get on the bed,” he orders before Freddie can amend his mistake. “Hands and knees.”

“Yes, Roger,” Freddie mumbles, perhaps to make up for his lapse.

Once he’s in position, Roger wastes no time running a hand over his arse, admiring the way the strings are pressing into his flesh. He picks one of them up and releases it with a snap, making Freddie gasp.

“You know, I wonder if that even counts as a punishment,” he says conversationally as he traces the outline of the fabric with his finger. “A spanking, I mean. Given how eager you seem to be for it.”

It’s not a question, so Freddie doesn’t answer. Clever.

“Perhaps I should just keep you waiting like this. Pop down to the sitting room, have some tea, and let you think about what a moody brat you have been today.” He lets his voice drop lower. “And pray that I have already forgotten about yesterday.” He observes Freddie for a moment. “Would you like that?”

Freddie hesitates before answering. The fact that Roger knows exactly what is going through his head, that he’s trying to work out the best answer to make sure Roger gives him what he wants, makes Roger bite back a smile. Not that it matters much, because Roger has absolutely no intention of waiting around in the sitting room for an hour just to prove a point.

“No,” Freddie says finally, earning himself points for honesty.

“Very good,” Roger says, and rubs his hand more firmly over Freddie’s arse, enjoying the way he pushes back into his hand. Then he sits down and pats his thighs. “Come here.”

Freddie breathes a sigh of relief before crawling into Roger’s lap. His hips come to rest on Roger’s legs, putting his arse in a perfect, elevated position. Roger puts a pillow under Freddie’s feet to make it a bit easier on his back. “Comfortable?” he asks.

Freddie nods, and this time Roger knows he’s doing it on purpose. Well, that round goes to him - perhaps Roger has shown his hand a bit too early, and Freddie is never shy about capitalising on an advantage. “Good, because the way today has been going, this is will a while.”

Allowing his ominous words to sink in is the perfect excuse to just enjoy the view for a moment longer. To think about all the things he has planned for today. To feel the crackle of anticipation in the air.

When his hand comes down the first time, it’s a light almost playful slap with not much of a sting behind it. But it’s still unexpected enough to make Freddie gasp. “Since you are so excited about this,” Roger explains as he does it again, this time with a little more bite, “you could show some gratitude, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Freddie gasps at the next slap. “Thank y- you.” He trips over his words as Roger’s hand comes down again.

“You’re welcome,” Roger trills in time with his first really forceful smack. “In the meantime, I can tell you a bit about why we’re starting off like this.” Freddie’s bum has taken on a nice pinkish hue now, warming up in time with Roger’s hand. He thought about using a paddle, but the sensation of his palm hitting Freddie’s skin is so lovely he doesn’t want to miss it.

“First of all: manners.” He lands a solid blow near the top of Freddie’s thigh. “You didn’t answer my question, twice” - two more right on the same spot - “even after I so kindly reminded you. So perhaps you need to be reminded again.”

“Th-thank you,” Freddie breathes, the repeated blows to the same spot clearly beginning to smart.

“Secondly… hmm. Oh, I think it’s manners again.” Roger shifts his attention to the other, yet untouched cheek, going directly for a resounding smack, no warm-up this time. “Sulking on the sofa instead of being grateful for my attention.”

“I-” Freddie takes a shaky breath. “I wasn’t-”

“Three: Talking back,” Roger announces and rains a series of blows right on the same spot, making Freddie try to wriggle away. “Oh no,” he tuts, and reaches out with his left to grab his hair. “You stay right here.” He pinches a bit of flesh between his fingers, waiting for Freddie’s sharp intake of breath before he follows it up with a smack right to the same spot.

“Oh fuck, _fuck_.” Freddie whimpers. Then he takes inhales shakily. “Thank you.”

Roger palms his burning butt cheek for a moment, pressing in his fingertips and pulling at it roughly. Freddie is wriggling again, but not to get away, but to rub his erection against Roger’s thighs.

Instead of punishing this bit of impertinence instantly, Roger huffs out a laugh and takes his hands off for a moment. “God, you’re hopeless. You can barely take what I dish out, but you’re practically begging for more.” He leans over towards where Freddie’s face is mushed into the mattress. “Are you that desperate for it?”

And of course, because how else could it be, Freddie nods.

Oh, he is perfect, he really is.

“You’re in luck,” Roger leans to the side so he can reach under his pillow, “because I was just thinking that I’m going a bit easy on you.”

Freddie cranes his neck, trying to see what he is doing, letting out an annoyed ‘hmpf’ when Roger unceremoniously pushes his face back down into the mattress. Freddie is the very opposite of a well-behaved sub - at least in these early stages, when he still has working braincells to access - but Roger quite enjoys it like that. It adds some unpredictability to the proceedings, some starting points for tangents Roger wouldn’t have thought to explore otherwise.

This though, he thinks as he holds the metal plug between his palms for a moment to warm it up, has been part of the plan from the beginning. “You can look now,” he informs Freddie. “Do you like it,” he asks, turning the plug to show off the sparkling gemstone base.

“It’s beautiful,” Freddie says, eyes clinging to the sleek silvery design.

Roger bites back a soppy remark about it being no match Freddie. He isn’t very big on discipline, but that would be a step to far right now. “Happy to hear,” he replies instead and reaches for the lube.

The plug is weighty, but not terribly wide, so Roger slides it in without further prep. He pauses for a moment at the widest part, listening to Freddie’s sharply indrawn breath before he pushes it in completely and watches it settle between Freddie’s cheeks. It’s not the main attraction for now, but he can’t resist prodding it a bit, just to hear Freddie’s pleased noises and feel him rub his cock against Roger’s thighs again.

Once he’s got enough of that, Roger lets go of the plug and, without missing a beat, swings his arm and brings his hand down in a hearty slap, directly followed by another. Freddie yelps, and Roger can imagine how the plug moves inside him with every hit, how his muscles clench around the stem, making it feel so much bigger it actually is. The thought of feeling that tight, clenching heat around his cock is making it throb with anticipation.

But they’re not done here. Far from it.

“Four,” Roger continues his catalogue of offences. “Rubbing your cock all over me without permission.” His blows rain down in a steady beat now, hard and unwavering. “In fact, you didn’t even think to ask.”

“S-sorry,” Freddie sobs.

“And?” Roger pauses with his hand raised.

“Thank you for reminding me _ow fuck_!”

Roger is tempted to reprimand him for his language too, but he loves to hear Freddie swear. He pauses briefly to run his fingertips lightly over Freddie’s reddened bum, pulling his cheeks apart just so he can have another look at the base of the plug sitting there. Freddie is squirming now, barely able to keep his hips still, the muscles in his back and thighs tensing and relaxing beautifully.

“Colour,” Roger asks, just to bring it to Freddie’s attention once more before they’re too far in.

“Green.”

Without further pause, Roger launches back into the spanking. His palm is getting slightly numb, but hearing Freddie’s high-pitched moans, seeing his fingers grip the sheets, feeling how he tries (and fails) to keep still and be good for Roger, makes this too entrancing to stop. “Taking it a lot better now,” Roger comments and runs his free hand over Freddie’s back in silent praise.

“Thank you,” Freddie moans, with real feeling in his voice this time.

“Lift your arse up for me a bit,” Roger says, and when Freddie eagerly cants his hips and presents himself, Roger can’t contain his excitement, the words spilling out of him. “Yeah, just like that. Christ, you're gagging for it, aren’t you?” He puts his whole weight behind the next blow, a surge of raw power crackling through him as he hears Freddie cry out. “And that was a question.”

“Y-yes,” Freddie pants.

Roger reaches between Freddie’s legs, trailing a finger over his tight balls and the base of his cock, as far as he can reach. “Yes, indeed,” he drawls, feeling Freddie’s cock twitch at his tone. He brings his hand back up. “Ask me nicely then.”

“P-please more,” Freddie whimpers. His cheek is resting on the bed, and Roger can see his face scrunched up in sweet agony.

Roger picks up a regular rhythm again, alternating between Freddie's cheeks and sometimes throwing in a lighter smack right to the middle, deliberately nudging the plug. “Anything else you want to ask for?”

It takes Freddie a moment to answer, as if he’s having trouble to parse the question. That, or he can’t quite believe Roger is offering him something like that already.

“Please may I - hngh - may I come?”

“Come from a spanking?” Roger acts shocked. “You really like it when I hurt you, don’t you?” he purrs.

“Hmmm, yes, please,” Freddie repeats, and Roger commends him for the way he keeps himself still and accepts the blows he’s still dealing out.

“What do you want to do,” Roger asks, breathless now from both lust and exertion. “Tell me.”

“I want t-to rub myself against you - hm, thank you,” he whispers with the last breath in his lungs before he draws in a shaky breath. “Please, I need it so badly.”

That last needy whine is blatantly manipulative, but it also appeals directly to Roger’s lower instincts. Still, he takes his time to answer. He feels it in his shoulder and his arm now, the hard work he’s putting in. It’s time to bring this to an end.

“Ten more,” he says, shaking out his hand for a moment and brushing the knuckles of the other over Freddie’s feverish skin. “I’ll give them to you slowly, so you can feel every single one. And you’re free to come anytime. Ten.” He doesn’t give Freddie time to process it, instead he deals out the first resounding smack just as he finishes speaking.

Freddie cries out, but he also uses the momentum to rock forward on Roger’s thighs. Immediately after, he pushes his hips back up, obediently awaiting the next blow.

Roger regrets his decision to wear jeans. The sight of Freddie’s reddened bum cheeks, the strings of the knickers digging into them, the sparkling base of the plug just peeking out, the way he wordlessly begs to be spanked harder… Roger has to close his eyes for a second just to focus. “Nine,” he counts down as he opens them again.

They settle into a slow, pulsing rhythm, driven by both his hand and Freddie’s hips. It looks like fucking, it _feels_ like fucking, and probably even more so for Freddie, who must feel the plug moving him deep inside with every blow. His breath hitches, his thighs tremble, and when Roger is down to four, he groans and shamelessly ruts against Roger’s legs.

Roger gives him the last three quickly, driving him through it until Freddie is a writhing and shuddering mess in his lap. They’re both panting as if they’d run a marathon, but Roger give them no time to recover. He pulls out the plug, revelling in Freddie’s strangled moan as the widest part slips out. He tosses it in a box and puts just the tip of his finger inside Freddie’s hole. “I can feel you clenching,” he informs him. “How I wished to feel that on my cock yesterday.”

“You could feel it now,” Freddie mumbles into the sheets, pliant and dopey now.

“Oh, could I? How generous of you. But you know,” Roger wiggles out from under Freddie’s boneless form and walks over to his bedside table, “I’ve got a whole pile of toys to get through.”

That earns him a wary glance from Freddie, which Roger answers with a smirk. He rifles through the drawer a bit longer than necessary, making sure to produce all sorts of intriguing clanking and jangling sounds, before he produces his prize: a much heftier, four-inch black butt plug with a curved base that presses into the perineum.

Freddie’s eyes grow wide when he sees it. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“I think you deserve a bit of a treat,” Roger announces and taps Freddie’s thighs. “Spread your legs for me.”

Freddie complies without complaint, but Roger hesitates briefly before he reaches for the lube. “Green like the grass on a Cornish meadow,” Freddie sing-songs.

“Thanks,” Roger says, biting back a scowl. It’s great that Freddie checks in. But if he’s still that cheeky, Roger should probably up the pace a bit. He adds a generous amount of lube, and starts working the plug in, tugging and shifting until it sits snugly inside Freddie’s body. “How’s it feel?”

Freddie rolls his hips a bit, wincing and freezing in a certain position. “It certainly hits the spot,” he hisses.

“Good.” Roger would have had a couple of different ones in store, just in case. He climbs onto the bed, belatedly realising he’s still in his soiled jeans. The knickers only spared them from the worst. Biting back a curse, he gets off again to remove them. Freddie is watching him with an amused smirk on his face. Oh, Roger’s dying to wipe that off his face. “Take off the knickers.”

As soon as Freddie has complied, Roger rolls him onto his back, ignoring the pained hiss when his bum makes contact with the sheets, and tugs his arms above his head. Then he reaches into the drawer again to retrieve their trusty leather cuffs. Freddie is watching the proceedings passively, still limp and mellow from his earlier orgasm.

This changes when Roger picks up the [spreader bar](https://i.ibb.co/16C1Q9D/spreader-bar.jpg). A bit of tension returns to his muscles, his cheeks flush with fresh excitement, and his spent cock gives a pathetic little twitch. Roger adjusts the size to almost the maximum width and puts it between Freddie’s ankles, fixing the cuffs in place. Immediately, Freddie tries to pull his legs together, testing the resistance. He can still move his lower body, bend and stretch his knees, but his range is severely limited. The sight adds to the pull in Roger belly, body buzzing with the sweet hum of control. He slides one hand up Freddie’s slender leg, from his ankle to the crease of his thigh, feeling the tension in it. Lovely.

Their leather cuffs go on his wrists and are fixed to the headboard of the bed, stretching out the front of Freddie’s body. Even lovelier.

Freddie is wide awake now, his whole body thrumming with tiny movements.

Roger returns to the drawer. Freddie’s attention is entirely on him as he retrieves three more items, two of which Roger puts aside for now, but keeps within easy reach. The third he picks up, winding the metal strands around his fingers a couple of times before turning to Freddie. “Lift your head.”

“What… what is it,” Freddie asks, eyeing Roger as he places the thin chain around his neck.

“You’ll have time to figure it out,” Roger says. Not that it will take Freddie very long - it’s just a small metal [flogger](https://i.ibb.co/qFctK9K/flogger.jpg) with a chain attached to it so it can me worn as a necklace, but it looks divine on Freddie. Roger draws back and lets his eyes travel over Freddie’s adorned body. Rose-gold metal glints against his skin, the throngs of the flogger almost reaching down to his crotch. Divine and sinful at the same time. Perhaps Roger should have one custom-made in real gold. It would feel more appropriate for Freddie than this cheap, painted alloy.

Roger runs his fingers through the chair on Freddie’s chest, tracing them along one pearly strand that reaches almost to his nipple. Freddie holds his breath, but Roger skirts around it and lets his hand trail off. He loves this part, the teasing pause before they get back into action. Making Freddie guess at what is going to happen next.

He’s not terribly patient though, so these moments never last long. “You know why it’s so much fun doing this with you,” Roger asks.

“Because I’m beautiful, irresistible and take our cock like a pro?”

Way too cheeky.

Roger sits down on the bed and picks up the second item, enjoying the way Freddie’s eyes nervously follow his every move.

“The nice thing about you is that you are so sensitive everywhere.” He flicks the thumb of his free hand over Freddie’s nipple, watching him bite back a moan. “When your cock is spent, I can play with your arse.” He presses a button on the remote. A jolt goes through Freddie as the plug comes to life deep inside him. Judging from his expression, he hadn’t expected that. “When your arse needs a rest,” Roger reduces the intensity of the vibrations, “I’ll move on to your nipples. And by the time they are all puffy and swollen…” he twists it between his fingers, watching Freddie’s face scrunch up from the pain, “...your cock has got just the rest it needs.” He leans down until his lips brush Freddie’s ear. “We can go on like this for _hours_ ,” he whispers.

When he draws back, Freddie looks slightly terrified.

Roger cocks his head. “Problem?”

Freddie shakes his head, eyes wide as saucers.

“Good.” Roger gets a bit more comfortable on the bed, sitting cross-legged. “This thing has a ‘knock’ function,” he explains as he holds up the remote. “Always wondered what that does.” He presses the button.

“Hngh.” The muscles in Freddie’s thighs stand out as he tries to squeeze his legs together. The bar between his ankles won’t let him, and the sight sends a thrill through Roger.

“Tell me, what does it do?” Roger has a pretty good idea, but making Freddie talk while he has his prostate tortured is so much fun.

“It - hmm - it’s like… oh _fuck_!” The tendons on Freddie’s neck stand out as he presses his head back into the mattress.

Roger smiles innocently at him as he turns up the intensity. “Yes?”

“Too much, it’s too… oh God.” Freddie’s hips move all over the sheets as he tries to get away from the sensation.

“Still haven’t told me what ‘it’ is,” Roger chides, and runs his thumb quickly back and forth over one nipple.

“You know what it is, you bastard,” Freddie grunts through gritted teeth.

Roger tuts. “Still haven’t learnt to answer a simple question,” he notes and turns it up to maximum, drawing a wail out of Freddie. He prefers a light touch there, and it seems like the plug is right on the money. Excellent.

“It’s like this,” Freddie shouts, jerking his head towards his bound hands. One finger taps rapidly against the headboard. “Right on my fucking prostate!”

“Very good!” Roger reduces the intensity to a low setting and runs a hand over Freddie’s sweaty forehead.

“Fuck you,” he spits, panting and turning his head away. .

Roger grins brightly. God, he loves Freddie when he’s like that, combative and moody. Asking to have it fucked right out of him. Roger places the remote down on the bed, within Freddie’s line of sight. Then he swings one leg over him so that he rides his middle. “And this fresh from a spanking,” he marvels. “Looks like it's time for another lesson.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, check the updated tags for potential squicks before reading - or don't check if you prefer the surprise 😉
> 
> The links lead to some NSFW pictures of the toys used, so proceed with caution.

Freddie’s body is stretched taut like a guitar string. And Roger loves to pluck on him, just to find out what sounds will come ot of him as he shakes and trembles.

He left the [prostate massager](https://i.ibb.co/PgYKZXq/prostate-massager.jpg) humming away at a low setting, enough to keep it on Freddie’s mind, but not the main attraction for now. Instead, he focuses on his nipples, those sensitive little nubs that Freddie both hates and loves to have Roger play with.

“Hngh, stop,” he’ll plead when Roger flicks his tongue rapidly back and forth over one for a long minute, then whine and pout when he finally pulls away. “Fuck, fuck, it’s too much,” he’ll curse when Roger tugs on them with his teeth, only to arch up into his touch the next second. It’s so fucking beautiful Roger could get addicted to it. He drinks in every muttered profanity, every sharp hiss of pain. At one point, he picks up the discarded silk robe from the floor and draws the smooth material across Freddie’s chest. Then he rubs his fingertips back and forth over the place where one nipple is visible through the fabric. Freddie would have twitched off the bed if he weren’t chained to the headboard. It's brilliant. With all the friction removed, Roger doesn’t have to worry about the delicate skin getting sore and can instead focus fully on driving Freddie right out of his mind.

“Oh God, fuck, Roger,” Freddie chants, twisting his upper body to get away or get closer, Roger doesn’t know which. Freddie probably doesn’t either.

Roger doesn’t like to think about what it says about him that the sight of Freddie’s face scrunched up in agony makes his cock grow impossibly harder in his pants. That every “God please stop, I can’t” only makes him move his fingers faster. But in the end, they both enjoy it, so how could it be bad? If Freddie truly disliked something, in a way that he couldn’t draw some kind of twisted pleasure from it, the game would lose all attraction. For both of them.

He abruptly stops his merciless teasing, but before Freddie can enjoy the reprieve, he picks up one of the fronds of the [flogger](https://i.ibb.co/qFctK9K/flogger.jpg) lying on Freddie’s stomach. Holding it taut between his fingers, he lets the tiny metal pearls glide over the fabric, catching on Freddie’s swollen nipple underneath, one by one.

Freddie hisses at the sensation, his teeth digging into his lower lip and the back of his head pressing into the mattress. Roger repeats it a couple of times, thrilled with the effect, and only stops when Freddie’s breathing becomes erratic.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” Roger says and lets the fronds of the flogger tickle lightly over the skin of Freddie’s stomach.

“A blowjob?” Freddie replies without missing a beat, despite the fact that he’s still panting.

A blowjob, of course, Freddie would love that. Getting sucked off with the soft vibrations of the plug deep inside him. But cheekiness certainly won’t get him there. Not tonight.

“Another little thing you bought for us.” Roger puts the flogger down and picks up the third item he retrieved from the drawer.

Freddie’s brow knits into a confused frown as he tries to work out what it is.

Roger pulls the robe off Freddie’s chest and turns the inappropriately named Womanizer Premium around in his hands. “I’m not sure what it can do,” he lies, having already tried the thing on himself. “But we’ll find out, eh?” He puts the opening of the stimulation head over Freddie’s left nipple. Then he flicks it on.

The frown on Freddie’s face deepens for a moment as he gets used to the unfamiliar sensation. Then he curses and pulls on the restraints, biting his lips as the sensation washes through him.

“It only uses air,” Roger explains in his best sales assistant’s voice.

“Fascinating,” Freddie breathes as Roger notches up the intensity. “I hate it.”

“No, you don’t.” Roger leans down to press a kiss to Freddie’s gorgeous lips. “Or if you do, I don’t give a damn.”

“I hate _you_.” Freddie would be twisting onto his side by now if he weren’t bracketed by Roger’s knees on either side.

Roger flicks his tongue against Freddie’s lips, first the top, then the bottom. God, he’ll never get enough of this. “No, you don’t,” he repeats and slides his tongue deep into Freddie’s mouth for a second, a shiver of satisfaction going through him when Freddie instantly opens up to accept him. “But perhaps once I’m done with you, you will.”

He brings the toy to Freddie’s right nipple and licks his left, then blows on it, drawing another string of curses out of Freddie. As much as he’d love to see him drool around a ball gag sometimes, he just can’t bring himself to shut him up. To deprive himself of this, of Freddie both damning and praising him to high heaven.

Without stopping the stimulation of Freddie’s nipple, he swings one leg over so he is kneeling at his side. “Ready for the next step?”

“Roger,” Freddie informs him, very seriously. “I’m _dying_.”

Roger tuts and presses a finger against Freddie’s lips. “Stop being such a crybaby.” With a pang of regret, he puts the Womanizer aside for a moment and takes off his pants, enjoying the way Freddie’s gaze is following his every moment. “How about you put your mouth to some use instead?” Freddie’s eyes light up at that, as if he couldn’t think of anything better than sucking Roger off.

Roger straddles Freddie again, but facing the foot of the bed now. His legs are spread wide, knees just to the side of Freddie’s shoulders. It’s an odd position, both exposed and completely in control. “Stomp your foot against the mattress or hum God Save the Queen if it gets too much.”

“Foot against the mattress or God Save the Queen,” Freddie repeats, nuzzling his nose against Roger’s thigh.

Roger picks up the Womanizer again (and by god, if they're going to keep this thing, they’ll have to give it a different name). He’s tempted to hold it against the tip of Freddie’s cock for a bit, right at the most sensitive part, but holds back. The plan is to give his cock a break this round. So instead, he brings it back to his right nipple. When he’s got the toy in place, and the remote for the prostate massager within reach, he lowers himself carefully over Freddie’s face. “Eat me out,” he says. “I know how much you love that.” Freddie loves it more than Roger does, if he’s being honest. It feels nice, and it’s a good warm-up to getting fingered, but mostly the thrill is in knowing how much Freddie gets off on it. Especially when they’re like this, with Roger in control, and Freddie smothered beneath him.

But that’s alright, because for now, Roger wants to concentrate on Freddie. He’ll have his turn later, during the last glorious minutes of this, when Freddie will be a blissed out, pliant mess to do with as Roger pleases. Until then, this is about him.

Freddie's tongue circles Roger’s rim, slowly spiralling closer inside. It’s warm and wet, and Roger can feel Freddie’s stubble on his cheeks. “Get to it,” he grumbles. Immediately, Freddie stiffens his tongue and presses it right to the centre of Roger’s hole, then quickly wriggles it back and forth.

Roger bites back a curse. Okay, so perhaps he likes this a bit more than he cares to admit. When Freddie pauses for breath, Roger takes the Womanizer away and shifts a little more backwards, dragging his balls over Freddie’s chin until they’re touching his lips. Without hesitation, Freddie sucks them inside his mouth.

Now _that_ has Roger swear out loud from the bottom of his heart. “Christ, you’re good at this,” he moans, sparks of pleasure pinging trough him as Freddie massages him with his tongue. “You were fucking made for this.”

Freddie hums in agreement, the vibrations resonating deep within Roger’s body. He’s losing control, and fast, so in order to regain it, he reaches for the remote and turns up the knocking function of the prostate massager again. Softly at first, so he doesn’t to end up accidentally castrated.

He can feel the change going through Freddie’s body, the tension rising, his clever tongue becoming clumsy and uncoordinated. It has its own kind of appeal, and Roger indulges in the sensation for a moment. But then he pulls away and sits back even more, so that he can press the tip of his cock against Freddie’s lips. Freddie immediately opens them wider, eager for anything Roger will give him. Roger can feel the slickness of Freddie’s tongue, swirling in spirals around the head. “Stop,” Roger says, although he wants nothing more than for Freddie to keep going. But he’ll need at least a handful of working braincells and coordination for the next bit.

Freddie’s nipples are red and a bit puffy, but they don’t look raw or scraped, and Freddie doesn’t flinch when Roger pinches them lightly. So he attaches a set of clamps he's put aside for this purpose and pulls experimentally on the chain connecting them. Freddie’s hips buck up in response. It’s a beautiful sight, all that skin stretched out in front of him, criss-crossed with the glinting metal of the clamps and the flogger. Freddie would have something to say about the mismatched hues - rose gold and silver - but Roger doesn’t give a single fuck.

He rocks back and forth a little, to get a sense for his range of motion. Freddie’s response is to lift his head, to take Roger as deep as he can just to prove how willing he is. “You’re making it too easy,” Roger chuckles, which only makes Freddie more determined. Roger pulls on the chain warningly. “Relax.”

Freddie’s head settles back against the mattress, but he can’t keep his feet still. They move and stretch, pointing and flexing like a dancer warming up. Like he can’t wait for whatever is coming next. His cock lies wet and dark in the crease of his thigh, already filling up again.

Roger runs one hand over Freddie’s belly, holding the remote control of the prostate massager firmly in the other. “I’m going to fuck your mouth now.”

Freddie moans, his tongue flicking against the tip of Roger’s cock, as if he can’t help it.

The velvet heat inviting him in feels so fucking good that is takes all of Roger’s self-control not to thrust into it with all he’s got, to rut himself to completion within a minute or two. Plans, he reminds himself. He’s got plans. So he slides his length slowly into Freddie’s welcoming mouth, giving him time to adjust while relishing in the smooth glide. When Freddie swallows around him the for first time, Roger presses the second button on the remote control, the one that causes the part pressed against Freddie’s perineum to vibrate. The added sensation throws Freddie off, making him gag.

Roger gives himself a second to enjoy the feeling of muscles spasming around the head of his cock, then he pulls out to give Freddie a chance to recover. “Can’t take it?”

“Fuck off,” Freddie coughs.

So Roger pushes in again, faster this time, making Freddie choke on his words. He dials up the knocking function next, and pulls on the chain connected to the clamps in time with his next thrust. The garbled noise Freddie makes is almost certainly a good one, but just to make sure, Roger lets him have some air again.

“Touch me, fuck, Rog, please,” Freddie rasps.

Roger swipes his thumbs over Freddie’s nipples. “But I am.”

“Touch, ah, touch my cock, please, please I’ll do anything, but I need-”

“I decide what you need.” Roger doesn’t bother to soften the harshness in his voice. It’s just a game, but when he gets annoyed at Freddie’s whinging, it’s not just an act. It scared him at first, how domineering and just plain _mean_ he can get when they play like this. How listening to Freddie beg and grovel only to deny him again and again can make him feel like he’s flying.

When Freddie dares to protest, he shuts him up rudely by thrusting his whole length into his mouth and turning up the vibrator even more. Freddie’s cock jumps at this assault, like it is trying to leap into Roger’s hands. “Show me how much you love this,” Roger grunts. “How much you get off on having your pretty mouth fucked, how much you enjoy being tied up and gagging on my cock. ”

By all laws of nature, it should be impossible to stave off his own orgasm by now. He has waited so long, and everything about this situation - the absolute control, the sensation of Freddie’s throat spasming around the tip of his cock, god, the _sounds_ he’s making - should make Roger go off like fireworks on the stroke of midnight. But he’s in that space now, calm and golden and unyielding, where it feels like he could stay forever. As long as it takes.

Freddie is shuddering all over now, his body straining for a release that is just out of reach. But Roger knows how to get him there.

“You like to be stuffed from both sides, don’t you? To be all plugged up”

To his credit, Freddie valiantly tries to answer Roger’s question, even though all that comes out is a choked off hum.

Roger reaches for the chain again, tugging it to the left, then to the right, in time with his thrusts, keeping up a steady stream of dirty talk. “Taking me so well,” he grunts. “Getting off on being used like this, don’t you? Your legs spread so wide for me? Held open so I can do whatever I want to you?”

He’s about to reach for the remote, to give Freddie that last little nudge he needs to be driven over the edge, when he feels the change. The angle of Freddie’s head changing, his hips canting upwards. He is magnificent, messy and sweaty and excessive, his thick cock glistening darkly in this moment just before his release, and Roger is tempted to just let go and shove himself down Freddie’s throat relentlessly until he comes and shares in the glory with him.

But Freddie deserves more.

So Roger pulls out of his mouth, tugs the clamps off, and rubs his hands over Freddie’s quaking ribs while he gasps, from pain and the sudden rush of oxygen and the strain of teetering on the point of no return. Roger's own cock is lying wet and achingly hard against Freddie’s cheek, and his heart skips a beat when he feels Freddie turn towards it, even now. So good, so eager, it makes Roger’s head spin. “Show me,” he whispers, and oh how he wishes he could see Freddie’s face, but it’s too late to change positions again. “Come all over yourself and I’ll let you have it again.”

Freddie’s moan is broken and ragged as his cock pulses, dribbling rather than spurting a load of come onto his stomach. It seems to go on forever, Freddie’s body twisting on the sheets, his hips rocking back and forth, as if he couldn’t decide which way to go. It’s only when this wordless moans turn into a whispered “stop stop stop please God” that Roger relents and turns the vibrator off.

Freddie’s harsh breathing fills the heated air of the room. “Let me,” he whispers, his voice shot to all hell. “You said I could-”

Roger kneels down next to him instead. “Soon,” he reassures him, himself, whoever is able to listen at this point. Freddie's pupils are blown, his lips swollen and slick with spit. Roger gives himself a few moments to drink in the sight, to run his fingers over Freddie’s flushed face, through the drool covering his lips and chin.

Then he shuffles down on the bed and releases the cuffs of the spreader bar.

“What? No…” Freddie shakes his head in confusion, his hands twitching in their restraints.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.” Roger presses a kiss to Freddie’s thigh and picks up the bar. “Or this.”

Before Freddie can ask what he means, Roger taps his hip. “Come on, up on your knees.”

Freddie is weak and uncoordinated, blinking slowly as he does as he’s told. Roger offers him a couple of sips from a water bottle, then puts a pillow under his chest and guides him down onto his elbows, stretching him until his arms are drawn out long in front of him. It’s lovely how flexible Freddie is, how easily his body can be coaxed into all sorts of positions.

Roger sits back and reaches for the massager that is still inside Freddie. He can’t resist giving it a little nudge.

“No,” Freddie groans, shaking his head into the mattress. “I can’t… no more. Please.”

“Shush.” Roger strokes his hand over Freddie’s arse. “Just taking it out.”

Freddie whimpers in protest, and Roger ends his caress in a little smack. “No whining.” Roger takes a moment to check Freddie over. The skin is hot to the touch, but there isn’t any swelling and his body accepts Roger’s two fingers easily. It’s to be expected: the vibrator barely caused any friction, after all. “I think you can take a bit more,” Roger concludes, earning him a pathetic moan from Freddie. But he doesn’t talk back, doesn’t quip or try to sweet-talk Roger out of it. He’s too far gone for that.

Roger slides the massger back in just for the moment and picks up the spreader bar, adjusting the size to about twelve inches. Freddie turns his head to see what he’s doing, and his heavy-lidded eyes grow wide at the sight. “You earned it,” Roger says as he crawls behind Freddie. He taps the inside of his thigh. “Spread.”

Freddie’s breath hitches as he complies, his legs shaking as he shuffles his knees apart.

“There we go.” Roger attaches the bar to his thighs, just above the knees. They will not only keep his legs spread, but the cuffs will also prevent them from sliding apart uncomfortably far. He’ll be held just like this, in perfect position. Roger presses a kiss to the base of Freddie’s spine and whispers, “You’re doing beautifully.” He smiles against the sweaty skin and adds, “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Then he gets up and walks to his bedside table again, Freddie’s dark eyes following him. Before he gets out the next item, he purses his lips thoughtfully and looks straight at Freddie. “Do you sometimes wish I were bigger?”

Freddie's mouth moves a couple of times before he answers, obviously thrown by the question. “I… no?”

“It’s alright.” Roger grins and runs his knuckles over Freddie’s cheek. He’s not actually concerned about his size. He might not have the trappings of a porn star, but both of them know that he’s got enough to fuck Freddie to the point of incoherence if he puts his mind to it. But he also knows that Freddie as a bit of a thing for huge cocks, and tonight he’s going to get the closest thing Roger can provide.

The [cock sleeve](https://i.ibb.co/wsxTgSp/penis-extender.jpg) he lifts out of the drawer is made of shiny black silicon, intimidating in both length and girth. Essentially a hollow dildo with eight and a half insertable inches, as promised on the box. Roger dribbles some lube into it and then spreads some more on his cock as well, the cold gel an almost welcome cool-down. The sleeve fits him snugly, its studded inside massaging his erection as he puts it on. It’s a bit fiddly to get his balls through the loop at the base, but once it’s done, the sleeve is fixed in place. He fears that he looks a bit silly with this enormous, strange-looking thing between his legs, but tries not to let it show on his face as he looks at Freddie.

Who’s eyes are transfixed on the augmented erection jutting out from his body. His mouth is hanging open, his expression both awed and disbelieving.

Well, if Freddie doesn’t think it’s silly, that’s the only thing that counts. Roger turns fully towards him, intending to climb back on the bed, but immediately Freddie comes up to his hands and knees and shuffles closer, his movements clumsy with the bar tying up his legs and his hands still in the cuffs. It’s like he’s being drawn to him by a strong magnet, as if he just can’t stay away.

It completely flies in the face of following instructions, of course, but right now Roger doesn’t give a fuck. Not when Freddie is looking at him like that.

He steps closer to the bed, putting one knee on top of it, until he is close enough for Freddie to reach if the stretches his neck. The sight is mesmerising, obscene: Freddie with his sweat-soaked hair, naked except for the chain of flogger around his neck, straining on trembling arms to wrap his lips around the massive phallus. The heat seeps through the material, warming it up, and Roger can feel distant echoes of Freddie’s movement. He is glad for the lack of sensation, because seeing Freddie’s lips stretched so wide around the immense girth, the muscles in his neck working to take it all in, might have been enough to finish him off otherwise.

Roger cups Freddie's jaw in one hand and takes control. “Look at me,” he rasps, and immediately two impossibly dark eyes turn up to look at him. “Look at me while I’m ruining you.” He doesn’t push it in deep - with the lack of feeling it would be too easy to hurt Freddie - but it doesn’t stop him from fantasising about fucking his face for real. To put him on the floor, tie his hands to the bar behind his back, have him struggle for balance as well as air while Roger makes him take it all.

Before it can become too much, Roger puts a hand to Freddie’s forehead and roughly pushes him away. With blind determination, Freddie struggles to come back as soon as he’s found his balance, whining when Roger keeps him away by pressing his fingers against his lips. “Got something else planned for you,” he mumbles, trying to regain some composure, and moves onto the bed, putting a possessive hand on Freddie’s arse.

“Oh fuck,” Freddie slurs, even as he lets himself drop down to his elbows again.

“Yes.” Roger's heart is pounding as he kneels between Freddie’s spread knees and takes the massager out. Freddie is stretched and relaxed from his two orgasms, and under normal circumstances, Roger could just go for it. Except now there is the added girth and length of the sleeve, so it might be a bit too much. But then, Freddie is all but breaking his spine in half, so eager is he to get started.

Roger coats the sleeve generously with lube, giving it a couple of extra strokes to warm it up. It’s odd, because he can’t feel what he’s doing. He puts one hand on Freddie’s hip, steadies the sleeve with the other, and starts to push it in. The head isn’t even fully in when Freddie stops breathing and his fingers cramp around the chain connecting the cuffs to the headboard. Roger pauses for a second, pulls out a couple of millimetres and waits until Freddie breathes out, his whole body shuddering. Then he tries again, even slower than before. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on, take it. I know you can take it.” Freddie’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t hold it this time. Instead, he exhales with a tortured groan that has Roger struggling not to just slam himself inside. “Open up for me.”

When the head pops behind the rim, a moan escapes Roger. He can fucking _feel_ Freddie clenching around him even through the sleeve. The pressure must be enormous. He gives him a moment to adjust, and then slowly slides deeper. Freddie cries out when he’s three quarters of the way in - it must be the head of the sleeve knocking into his sensitive prostate. Roger immediately rocks back and forth once more, just to hear that noise again. He can’t look away from the way that the globes of Freddie’s arse frame his obscenely stretched hole, speared open by the blunt girth of the sleeve.

It’s such a tight fit that Roger has to hold on to the sleeve with one hand as he starts thrusting, but even so with every movement back and forth, he can feel its textured inside moving against his cock. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” he mumbles. “Taking me so well.”

There's no coherent response from Freddie, only a high-pitched sob every time he breathes in, a ragged cry every time Roger bottoms out.

“Gon-gonna fuck you like this forever,” Roger stutters, high on Freddie’s beautiful reponse. “Gonna fuck you till you’re begging me to stop and then some more, gonna fucking _wreck_ you. And then, only then, when you’ve come yet again, I’ll take off the sleeve and fuck you properly, fuck you raw, use your loose, dripping hole for my pleasure." He’s moving faster, deeper the more he talks, flying high on pure energy, on the heady power of doing exactly as he pleases - and seeing how it reduces Freddie to a sobbing mess. "I'll fuck into you as hard and deep as I like. And you’ll take it all, letting me fill you up all over again, until you’ve screamed yourself hoarse, and you’ll love every second of it.” He pulls Freddie’s hips back with his hand on the next thrust, feeling the impact in his bones. How he wishes he didn’t have to hold on to the sleeve, that he could grip Freddie with both hands and just-

“Y-yellow.”

It’s quiet, barely more than a whisper, but it brings Roger to an immediate halt mid-thrust. He gentles the hand on Freddie’s hip and strokes his fingers over the sweaty skin. He makes sure his voice sounds as calm as he can manage when he asks, “Need me to stop? Or just a break?”

Freddie shakes his head, his ribs rising and falling with every panting breath. “‘s just. My arms, fuck.” He tries to roll his shoulders, but freezes. Now that he’s looking properly, Roger can see how taut the muscles in his neck and upper back are. “Jus’ have to…”

“I’ve got you,” Roger says and strokes his hands reassuringly over Freddie's back. He considers slipping the sleeve off his cock and leaving it inside Freddie, to spare him that empty feeling he hates so much when he’s under. But it doesn’t have a flared base, and Roger doesn’t fancy ending the night with a trip to the emergency room because he lost a toy in Freddie’s arse. So he slides out as gently as he can, quickly takes the sleeve off, and scrambles up the bed. He releases the velcro cuffs around his wrists, then pulls Freddie up into a kneeling position.

Freddie winces when his arms relax at his sides. “Sorry,” he sniffles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Shhh, ‘s alright.” Roger wraps his arms around him from behind, massaging the parts of his arms and his shoulders he can reach. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Didn’t want you to stop.”

Roger presses a kiss to Freddie’s neck, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “Just a short break, love.”

“Felt so good.” Freddie sounds heartbroken.

“Yeah,” Roger breathes, not so subtly pushing his erection into Freddie’s hip to show him just how good it had been. “Can’t wait to keep going. Whenever you’re ready.” He massages and caresses Freddie, kisses and whispers softly to him until he can feel his muscles relax and his breathing slow down. “Want me to take the spreader bar off too?”

“No!” Freddie’s head whips around and he looks at Roger with wide, concerned eyes.

“Alright then.” Roger chuckles and kisses him again. “You really like that, don’t you?”

“Hmmm.” Freddie rubs his cheek against Roger’s.

Roger runs a hand through Freddie’s damp hair. “Alright, you can keep it.”

Freddie pushes into his caress. “But...”

“Yeah?”

Freddie hesitates, his eyes flicking up to Roger, then turning back to the mattress with fluttering lashes.

“You can ask for anything,” Roger reminds him. They might be taking a bit of a break, but they’re still in the scene, and sometimes Freddie needs those reminders. “Always.”

“I don’t think I want the sleeve back.”

“Right, of course.” Freddie had seemed into it, but perhaps it was a bit much. They can talk about that later.

“Want it to be you. Just you.” Freddie sends him such a drowsy, heated glance that Roger bites his lip to keep himself from bending him over right away. It sounds heavenly, perfect. But then, he’s already told Freddie his plan, told him he’s only going to get that after he’s come for a third time… and Freddie knows exactly how to play Roger to get what he wants.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Roger says while he guides Freddie to lie down on his front, his arms lying comfortably at his sides. He caresses Freddie’s bum for a moment, enjoying his comfortable little sighs. “I have a bit more planned for you before we get to that.”

Freddie grumbles and pouts at him over his shoulder, drumming the tops of his feet against the mattress in protest. Roger smacks his thigh, hard. “None of that.” He leans forward and lets his lips brush over Freddie’s neck. “Or I won’t let you have it at all.” When Freddie doesn’t react he adds, “Understood?”

“Yes, Roger,” Freddie mutters.

“Good.” Roger sits back and pulls his cheeks apart with his thumbs to see how much more he can take. A bit more, he decides, but it is probably a good idea to leave off the sleeve in any case.

One last time, he heads to the drawer, to get the [anal beads](https://i.ibb.co/ZWYz7mJ/anal-beads.jpg) he needs for this part. Not the one that promises the fulfilment of all their backdoor needs though - he’s got his pride. When he holds them up, Freddie’s eyes flutter shut and he mouths a silent ‘fuck’, but doesn’t protest.

Roger considers him for a moment. He looks fantastic, spread out on his front, thighs still held open by the spreader bar, and Roger would love to keep him like that. But it’s impractical for what he’s planning next, so he taps his hip and asks him to turn around on his back. Freddie follows sluggishly, obviously unhappy with Roger’s plans. Roger is about to ask him to hitch legs up, when he gets a better idea. He grabs the bar between Freddie’s thighs and pushes it towards his chest, bending his legs easily. Freddie yelps, half-offended, half-aroused, and Roger winks at him, delighted with this handle he’s got on him. Definitely a keeper, that thing.

The beads are ordered in reverse, so the largest has to go in first. But Freddie’s hole is still loose enough that Roger can push it in with just a little resistance. The others follow quickly, popping in one after the other. Freddie is making happy little noises with each one, so Roger can’t resist to pull them out and repeat the process once more before he moves on. “Lift your head.”

Freddie complies, looking first confused, then alarmed when Roger slips off the flogger necklace. “Did you think this was here just to look pretty?” he asks, weighing it in his hand. “Although you did look very pretty with it.”

Freddie shakes his head, looking dazed enough that Roger knows he simply forgot to answer properly. Still, what a beautiful invitation. He flicks the fronds lightly against the side of Freddie’s arm, watching him flinch more in surprise than pain. The thin strands have some bite, but they’re not too painful. “Y-yes,” Freddie stammers. “No. I mean I- thank you?” There’s a bit of panic in his eyes as he tries to remember the rules, the question, what exactly it is Roger expects from him.

“Hush.” Roger runs the metal strands over Freddie’s lips. “Don’t worry, love. Don’t worry about a thing. You don’t have to thank me any more, or answer me except when I’m asking for a colour.” His hand arrives at the other side of Freddie’s body and he flicks the flogger against the other arm. “Just feel.” And then he leans down and takes the head of Freddie’s cock in his mouth.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roger can see his hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets. He sucks Freddie while he plays with the beads, pulling the smallest ones out and pushing them in again, until Freddie's moans become desperate and his cock is twitching in his mouth. Roger pulls off and presses his thumb against Freddie’s perineum, hard enough that Freddie will feel it deep inside him. He watches with glee as Freddie hisses and writhes on the bed, swearing to high heaven that he can’t stand it even a second longer.

Then Roger sits up and reaches for the flogger. He pushes Freddie’s legs further back, bending him in half, and whips the fronds against the skin of his arse. “Liar,” he grins as Freddie squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, trying to deal with the onslaught of sensation. Roger can see him clenching on the beads with every hit of the flogger. He wishes he could play with them at the same time, but then he’d have to let go of the bar… Then he notices Freddie’s hands dug tightly in the bedsheets. Might as well give them something to do.

“Freddie.” It takes a while until Freddie has blinked his eyes open and focused them on Roger, his gaze heavy and slow. “Hold onto his.” Roger guides one of his hands to the bar. He has to fold Freddie’s fingers around one by one it before understanding dawns and he grips it with both hands. The realisation sends a surge of excitement through Roger. _He_ has made him like that, put him under so deep that all he can do is react. And Freddie trusts him enough to let himself sink like that.

Now that his hands are free, Roger can play with Freddie to his heart's content. He tugs until the widest part of a smaller bead is right at the rim just as the flogger comes down, or licks a stripe along the length of his erection while massaging right behind his balls. Sometimes he just trails the metal strands of the flogger all over the skin of Freddie’s legs and stomach, watching goosebumps rise. Sometimes he lets a series of lashes rain down on the back of Freddie’s thighs, only to stop abruptly and dive in to circle his stretched rim with his tongue. It’s a balancing act of pain and pleasure, giving one or both at the same time, guided by the liquid leaking from the tip of Freddie’s cock and the tortured sounds coming from his throat.

And as much as Freddie pleads with him to stop, or to give him more, swears that he cannot bear it any more, that he can’t, he just _can’t oh god please please more_ , the whole time he holds on to the bar so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Do you want to come?”

“Can’t,” Freddie sobs.

Roger grips his cock and Freddie cries out. “I know you can,” he says and wanks him with a loose grip. He presses against his perineum with his thumb again, trapping his prostate between it and the beads inside him. Freddie throws his head back, the muscles and sinews standing out in his neck, his cheeks wet with tears. Milky fluid is dribbling from his cock, but Roger doesn’t stop.

By the time his balls draw up tightly to his body, Freddie is wordlessly crying out. Roger reaches for the loop at the base of the beads and wanks Freddie faster, encouraging him to let go. When his muscles finally seize up and he’s just about to go over the edge, Roger starts pulling out the beads, slowly, one by one. He is only halfway through when Freddie’s orgasm hits him. He howls as he clenches around the bigger ones, unable to stop the involuntary spasming of his muscles. Roger leans forward to look at his face, scrunched up in beautiful agony.

Finally, the last bead is out, and Freddie lies moaning on the bed, a mess of come and sweat and lube, trembling and incoherent. He looks absolutely amazing, and Roger can’t wait to push inside him, to finally get what he’s been waiting for all this time.

But then the bar slips from Freddie’s sweaty, shaking fingers. He immediately tries to get a hold of it again, but his legs land heavy on the bed, and he’s too uncoordinated to reach it. “S-s-sorry,” he whispers, his fingers scrabbling over Roger’s chest, his shoulders. “I’m so… I couldn’t… I’ll…” Panic spreads on his face, a helpless panic Roger doesn’t want to see there. Not ever.

“Shhhh.” Roger leans down and kisses him, swallowing his apologies. He reaches down blindly and releases the velcro loops tying Freddie’s thighs to the bar. “Come here.” He pulls Freddie into his arms, feeling his hot, tear-streaked face pressed into his neck. He's crying now, helplessly sobbing with relief and sorrow, when it should only be the former.

“Want to be good for you,” Freddie hiccups. “Want to make you feel good.”

“You did,” Roger whispers, drawing Freddie closer to him. “Fuck, you were amazing. You were perfect.”

“B-but you-”

“I love you,” Roger says, before Freddie can question it too much. “You did so well. Took everything I asked.” He presses a kiss to his forehead, runs his lips over his sweaty temples. “Shh, it’s all over. I love you so much.”

So the night isn’t ending with the grand finale he envisioned. But the throbbing need between his legs, so seemingly all-important just seconds ago, has lost its urgency. Freddie would spread his legs for him within a heartbeat, would let Roger fuck him or use his mouth or do whatever he desired with him. But what Roger wants, what he _needs_ right now more than anything else, is to hold Freddie close, just like this. To demand nothing of him, but give him everything, to make sure he is alright that any tears he’s shedding are “the good kind”, as Freddie likes to say. To make him feel warm and safe and loved.

He can always have a wank later, Roger decides as he coaxes Freddie into taking some more sips from the water bottle.

There’s no rush now. He clears the bed off all remaining sex toys, carelessly tossing them to the ground. He can sort those out later too. For now, all he’s going to do is lie down with Freddie in his arms, pull the blankets up around them, and tell him how much he loves him, over and over again, with his words, with every caress along his spine, with a dozen kisses pressed to his face, until Freddie can’t help but believe it again. Because that is all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @tikini for letting me steal her idea of using God Save The Queen as 'safe song'.


End file.
